A Father's Torment
by Gwedhiel
Summary: *canonical gap-filler* Elrond thinks about his sons as he stands on his balcony, waiting once more. Will the twins' eyes ever be opened to their father's agony? *under heavy revision*
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Elrond thinks about his sons as he stands on his balcony, waiting once more. Will the twins' eyes ever be opened to their father's agony?

**Disclaimer:** I own none of the characters, only the plot. Everything else is Tolkien's.

**A/N:** Well, we all have to start somewhere, and this story is apparently where I'm starting. I won't speak the stereotypical words of a new writer "please, take an easy on me! It's my first!" or something like that. While I hope to garner positive reviews I am open to any advice you may have to offer. But mainly, I hope you enjoy the story! I know this certainly won't be my best story – I may even despise it should I come back a year later to read it. But all the same, let's hope it works.

One last thing. Glorfindel plays a significant part in this story, and while I believe that he was born in Aman during the Years of the Trees, I have him being born significantly before that. I know it pushes on AU with such a concept, but at least it doesn't violate canon. But for the purpose of the story, I have him born quite a lot sooner.

**Additional A/N: This story is currently undergoing heavy revision and is in the process of being rewritten in its entirety. Looking back to it years later, I can't express my dissatisfaction with it, as it's not at all up to par with my abilities today. Just letting you all know in case you read it and are as discontent as I am. :) I don't know when the rewritten version will replace the current chapters, but know that it won't deviate far from the current content (I wouldn't want the reviews given so far to be foreign). Feel free to still read and review, just know if you find something worthy of complaint it probably already as been noted. I don't think it's at all a bad story...it could just be told better. :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Imladris was considered by the other Elven realms as a glimpse of what Aman would be as. The waterfalls, the gentle wind among the trees, the birds singing and the hospitality of the Noldorin Elves flowing….The valley's long standing peaceful aura in a world of war was a breath of fresh air to all who visited – both Elves and Men alike. Only a handful of people knew that the blessings of Yavanna on the valley were controlled and maintained by Vilya, Elven Ring of Air. And that her bearer, Elrond, was one of the greatest Elves in all of Middle-earth. Where it wasn't common knowledge that he bore Vilya for nearly three millennia, it was known (or rumored by most Men) that he had the gift of foresight. Wisdom was one of the traits the Noldor were known for and Elrond certainly lived up to his ethnicity, offering wisdom and guidance to all who asked. Being Half-elven, the Peredhel was commonly looked to for leadership from both Men and Elves. After the death of High King Gil-galad (whom the son of Eärendil was herald to at the time) Elrond could have rightfully claimed the throne and no one would have batted an eye. He was the descendent of the House of Bëor, the Houses of Olwë and Elwë, and the House of Finwë, first High King of the Noldor. Rightfully, Elrond would have been the next king in line since he and his brother Elros were the descendants of the king's uncle, Turgon, Lord of both Vinyamar and Gondolin. But no – Gil-galad was their last king and he stated that plainly to all who asked.

In normal circumstances, Lord Elrond would have been saddened at the reality that King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm was the last Elvenking to grace Middle-earth. It made the world seem so much smaller and less in glory than it once was.

But these weren't normal circumstances. Not anymore. Elrond, clad in burgundy robes of office, stood on his balcony looking west towards the setting Sun, his vision swarming with the beauty of Imladris. But he couldn't see it. His knuckles were white as they took hold of the balcony in a death grip. His heart and mind, usually weighed down with worry, was doubly so.

My sons…my beloved sons, where are you? He couldn't help but repeat the question in his mind like a mantra. Though he maintained a normal façade of calm in benefit for his people, his heart pounded with fear and worry. Where were they? They had told him that they would return a week ago.

And that was just the thing. During his sons' Orc excursions they never gave a date on when they would return. But now they had, thinking it would lessen their father's worry, but it only increased it since they hadn't returned when they said.

Never had he felt grief like this. It was a different kind of grief. When Elladan and Elrohir had found their mother being tormented in the cave by the Orcs, they had never been the same. Neither had he for that matter. He, the most renown and powerful healer in all of Middle-earth, had been unable to save his beloved Celebrían. She had been passing over the Hithaeglir on her way to Lothlórien to visit her parents when her party had been attack by a hoard of Orcs. His sons, returning from one of their many journeys from Mirkwood, had found and returned her broken and battered body to Imladris. And he had failed. His wife, the one person who needed him more than any other in his life, he had failed. He had healed her body, shedding uncontainable tears on it while he did, but he had been unable to heal her soul. Her fëa had been tormented with cruelty beyond repair. Knowing that she would fade should she remain on this side of the Sea, Elrond and his three children had traveled with her to the Grey Havens where Círdan the Shipwright had prepared a ship for her. Both Imladris and the Golden Wood lamented at her passing over the Sundering Sea.

His family had been torn apart after that. Elrond had fallen into a grief of his own that was concealed to all except those who knew him best. His Chief Counselor, Erestor, who was considered to have a barbed tongue and intimidating exterior, took over most of his work so that he could grieve properly. Glorfindel also came into help whenever he could. The empty feeling from the loss of her soul was all too reminiscent of the loss he experienced when he and his twin had made their choice, severing their bond and later leading to his death. But he didn't fade. For his children, he couldn't fade.

Again, his family had never been torn apart more. Arwen, who had suffered from the memories Celebrían had left in Imladris, left to live in Lothlórien with her grandparents. She didn't visit Rivendell frequently but when she did, it was for a long visit.

His sons though, his beloved twin sons went on a rampage. All Elves had an inborn hatred for Orcs and any other of Morgoth's spawn. But Elladan and Elrohir had gone through a massive change. Gone were the adventurous twins who saw and provided laughter every other minute. Though for years they had been referred to as overgrown children, they were very well trusted and took their responsibilities seriously. But after witnessing what happened to their mother and seeing her depart, they had developed an undying loathing for Orcs. From that day forward, they had deliberately set out to hunt down the Orcs and kill them. Separately, both Elladan and Elrohir were remarkably skilled in both sword and bow. But together, they were unfathomable and unbeatable. And they were never seen apart.

And he, Elrond, who was use to grief, having experienced it one too many times in his life, was experiencing a grief he never had before. And that was watching his sons succumb to their desire for revenge. In all truth, he probably would have joined them in their excursions to kill Orc, but he knew that it would never bring about healing. It would only prolong it. And that was what stayed his hand.

But no matter what he or anyone else said to them, they hunted. Many times they traveled to Mirkwood and aided the Wood-elves in their daily fight against the darkness and rid the world of both Orc and the spawn of Ungoliant. Legolas, who had an unimaginable loyalty to his king, joined them daily in their forests, but only out of a sense of duty, not revenge, even though many lives of the Silvan Elves, his own people, had been claimed by such evil.

And that was how it has been going for centuries. Elladan and Elrohir would come home to Imladris, always injured, and then depart immediately once they were healed. They spent very little time at home and it tore Elrond's heart asunder to watch them succumb to their grief and anger this way. Gone were his laughing twins. Now he was used to watching them sleep in a bed in the healing wing, recovering from one of their many wounds after returning from a hunt.

And that was why the Elf-lord stood on the balcony now. The twins never gave a date on when they would return whenever they left and Elrond couldn't help but experience a constant fear that only a parent could understand that he may never see them again. It was torment to him. Even though they were far past their majority he simply wanted to hold them and never let them go. He loved them beyond imagine. Now, this day, simply seeing them alive was a gift from the Valar. Even if they were wounded, he heart lifted to see them alive.

But were they alive now? They told him that they would return a week ago. Though he knew what they did, he never knew where they went. His heart pounded in his chest as emotions flooded his body. The desire to run to Glorfindel and send out a patrol to search for them was hard to resist. Surely if they were to have returned a week ago, they should be close to the valley, shouldn't they? He closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his heart. Why did his sons have to suffer like this? He would gladly bear all the pain in the world without complaint if it meant that his children would go on without it. Where were they?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and didn't need to turn to know who it was. Even though centuries had passed, he knew Glorfindel and Erestor constantly looked out for him. From the way the hand squeezed his shoulder, he knew it was Glorfindel.

"My friend, standing on this balcony and watching for their return will not bring them home any sooner," he said in a gentle voice.

"Where are they?" he whispered in a pained voice.

He squeezed the shoulder again. Glorfindel felt for him. Even though he thought he hid his grief well, some people saw it and he and Erestor were the two that saw it the most. The gloom was a constant shroud over their lord and whether or not one looked for it, one could always feel it. His daughter's absence hurt him, but at least he knew she was safe. His sons' actions, however, of dealing with their own grief, tore him apart. The Seneschal could see it. Like everyone else in the Valley, he worried over the twins' safe return. The urge to go out and look for them on his own proved difficult. Many a time he had tried to make them see reason, but no one could make them.

"I know not, Elrond, but you cannot stand here brooding about it," he said. To others he might have sounded insensitive, but he knew Elrond knew him better than that. But this past week he had seen his lord unable to concentrate. His worry for them, which was high most of the time, had risen to an unfathomable level.

Elrond didn't respond to that, so Glorfindel took him by the shoulders and steered him inside.

"Come, Elrond," he said, as he led the distraught Elf-lord to the bed chamber. "You need to rest. Your sons will return home in their time as they always do." Even if it is always injured, was the unspoken thought.

Elrond felt like a manikin being led around. He just wanted his sons to be home. To hold them. To know they were safe and still alive. But alas, once again, he would go to sleep knowing it was not to be.

O = O = O

The insistent banging on his door woke him up. Elrond shot out of bed, alarmed, and ran to his door throwing a robe on at the same time. It was easily past midnight judging from the position of the Moon.

It was Erestor. Much to Elrond's consternation it looked like his advisor was still working since he was dressed in his stately robes of office. He dismissed the thought when he saw the concerned look in Erestor's eye.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Elladan and Elrohir have just arrived," he stated calmly.

Elrond narrowed his brow in concern. "How bad?"

Erestor was saddened at the notion that Elrond didn't even need to ask if his sons were even injured. Every time, they just were. "They are both in the healing wing. Glorfindel and one of the healers are with them. I know not the severity of it, only that they are both unconscious."

Elrond was already running down the hall. He arrived at the healing wing and felt his heart leap to find Glorfindel and one of his senior healers staunching the blood flow on both his sons. His healer mode immediately took over.

The hours were long before it was finally over. Elrond sat down, exhaustion overcoming him. Both his sons lay sleeping in their beds, swathed in bandages. He sat out his vigil, watching them for any sign of need.

He had been told by Glorfindel that Elladan had arrived bearing Elrohir in front of him, who had passed out from the deep poisoned wound caused by an Orc blade. Elladan, shortly after arriving, had passed out from the heavy loss of blood. He sat between his sons in silence, relief flooding him once again that they were alive.

Glorfindel stood watching from the doorway. When the twins woke he would have Erestor distract Elrond with something and then he would be having a talk with the twins. He needed to know if they were blind to the pain they were causing their father. Witnessing it himself was heartbreaking. He didn't undermine the grief the twins were experiencing, but he couldn't watch Elrond go on like this a day longer. Something needed to be done.

Elrond sat there, each hand holding one of his sons', pouring his healing strength into their battered bodies every now and then. When they woke he would speak to them about their Orc sightings, or if they were in Mirkwood, news of that realm. But once they had healed, he knew they would be off once more. Therefore, he took every second he could right now to spend time with them, for very soon worry would engulf him once more as he waited once again.

To be continued...

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><p>Hithaeglir – Sindarin for the Misty Mountains<br>fëa - soul

**A/N:** Much of the initial information was extracted from Tolkien's 'The Silmarillion'. This small piece was meant to stand alone, but thanks to the reviews, there is now a chapter two on its way! If you have any critiques or advice or input you want to give me, let me know! I'm all ears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own none of Tolkien's characters or works.

**A/N:** Thank you for all the kind reviews and complements. I'm still trying to extend the plot of this story. But I can guarantee that there will be a chapter 3.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

"Why should I?" Erestor demanded, his dark eyes flashing.

Glorfindel huffed in amused annoyance. "I told you. I need to speak with the twins and besides myself and a couple others, you are the only one he will listen to." He threw up his hands in exaggeration. "You are the best at making boring subjects sound interesting."

Erestor scowled, contemplating if he had just been insulted or not. He gave the Vanya a look that would send any Elf with half a brain running. A look that Glorfindel simply found highly amusing. "Why is it that you always come to me when you need something done?" he huffed. He honestly couldn't understand why the Elf-maidens fawned over the charming Balrog-slayer or what they found endearing in that wide smile.

Glorfindel looked as though it was the stupidest question to ask. "Because you always do it." He looked at him, as though questioning his mental health.

Erestor growled with a dark looked and walked away, the lack of retort confirming to Glorfindel that he would once again get what he wanted. He smiled brightly. "My thanks, o great counselor!"

"Shut it!" Glorfindel had no doubt that the raven-haired Noldo was cursing him in every language he knew, and he knew quite a few. But that was normal, he mused as he walked away.

The relationship between the Seneschal and Chief Counselor was interesting, to put it mildly. Others looked at it in great confusion. They would spew words like fire and insults at one another like no other, though it was more Erestor who did that. Glorfindel, in his cheeky way, simply took it all and concentrated on making the riled advisor even more so. It was a great pastime, he mused, something he found he coincidently did every time he was bored. To many, save Elrond and a few others, they appeared to not be able to even stand the air the other person breathed and stay on the brink of killing each other. And yet, they would always defend each other to the core should it be needed. Their friendship was interesting indeed. Though Glorfindel figured that it didn't help that he was always the first (and only) to volunteer to help the twins exasperate the counselor, something they rarely did; his sharp tongue was not something the twins always braved to cross.

He crossed through the silent halls. The earliness of the day was evident in how the Sun's beams infiltrated the shadowed corridors. And the air smelled of that refreshing scent of a dewy spring morning. He arrived at Elrond's chamber door and softly knocked, leaning against the doorframe as he waited. The twins had been in the healing wing for a whole day and had not woken until evening came; Elladan had woken up rather groggy and loopy, but Elrohir still lay asleep with his eyes closed. During the brief time he was awake before he succumbed to Elrond's potent herbs Elladan had quickly listed the locations of the Orcs they found around Imladris. And now he stood before Elrond's door; he and his second-in-command had met with his lord and this morning he needed to discuss the patrols before he attended to them. A considerable amount of time had passed when he furrowed his brow. He knocked again, this time louder. More time passed with no response. He leaned his ear against the door, momentarily feeling like a juvenile eavesdropper.

Nothing. He stood in front of the door contemplating if he should invade his friend's privacy. He thought about it, perished the thought, and entered. He cared for the Peredhel too much to simply walk away as a servant would have done.

But, to his chagrin, the chamber was empty. Before he left he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the bed was neatly made. Glorfindel rose incredibly early each morning and he knew that the maids weren't due to stop in the chambers for at least another hour. He clenched his jaw in annoyance. Had Elrond even gone to bed last night? He gritted his teeth in frustration and swiftly made his way to the healing wing.

The sight that greeted him made him sigh, both adoringly and in exasperation. Both twins still lay sleeping on their pallets with no sign that they had stirred during the night, though their breathing appeared to be smoother. Elrond sat on a hard chair between the two beds, doubled over Elrohir's, laying his head on his crossed arms, sleeping. One of his hands was draped over Elrohir's, giving Glorfindel the idea that he had been holding his youngest son's hand for who knew how many hours. But what alarmed the Seneschal to the point of concern was that the Elf-lord's eyes were closed. That and the fact that there were shadows beneath his eyes told Glorfindel one thing; Elrond had drained himself to the point of exhaustion once again from imparting his own strength to heal his sons.

Glorfindel shook his head fondly. Elrond loved his sons unconditionally and it astounded him how far the Peredhel was willing to go for them, even at the point of his own health. Inwardly, he knew that any parent would do what he could for his child, but seeing it before him was something different all together. He walked over and gently shook his lord's shoulders.

"Elrond?" he whispered. "Wake up, my friend. The Sun is rising." Rubbing his shoulders in a brotherly way, Elrond stirred, drawing in a deep breath. He slowly sat up, weariness and fatigue lining every contour of his body. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, glancing around to find Glorfindel peering down at him worriedly.

"Glorfindel," he murmured. "Is everything all right?"

"I should be asking you that," he said as he kneeled down beside him. "Did you even go to bed last night?"

Elrond sighed, his eyes drooping tiredly as he looked at Elrohir. He grabbed his son's wrist, checking his pulse and then rested his fingers against his forehead.

"Elrohir had a fever last night," he said quietly. "It kept rising and it had to be watched."

Glorfindel sighed. "There is a reason why you have two healers assigned to work the night shift. Why do you not let them do their job?"

Elrond didn't answer to that. He didn't have to. Glorfindel knew how he felt about other healers watching his sons' recovery when he could be doing it himself. Glorfindel stood and dragged Elrond up to stand with him.

"Come, you stubborn Noldo," he teasingly admonished. "You need to get some rest, at least a couple of hours of undisturbed sleep."

Elrond shook his head. "I cannot, Glorfindel. I have work to do and the conditions of my sons need to be watched and kept stable. Even though Elrohir's fever broke, the poison can still cause another symptom to arise."

"I know, Elrond," he said gently. "But you have other healers who care for your children just as much as I do. And besides, you will not be any good to your children if you are half dead on your feet. Do what you would order any of us to do and get some rest."

"I have work to do, Glorfindel," he snapped. He then sighed and lowered his head. "I apologize for my lack of patience and I know you mean well, but I cannot neglect my duties simply because of my fatigue. And if you can recall our conversation the other night we need to discuss the border patrols investigating the Orc sightings –"

"And I will take care of it," he interrupted firmly. He could see that Elrond's eyes were slightly out of focus, evidence of just how tired he was. "I will take care of the patrols and Erestor will look over your work. The Valley is running smoothly and no complications have arisen that require our immediate concern. It will be no chore for Erestor to take over your work. Besides, every time you give him more work he is practically likeable. Is that not a good enough motive?" That at least elicited a small smile out of Elrond. "You need the rest and do not deny it. It is your fault, Elrond. You bring this upon yourself every time you use up your strength reserved for healing and more."

"But –"

Glorfindel gently shook him. "Go and get some rest. I do not even think you realize how tired you are."

He gestured towards his sleeping sons, as though trying to hold onto his resolve one last time. "But my sons –"

"Will be well looked after," he promised. He gave a slight smile as he pulled him away from the beds. "Honestly Elrond, I know I am bad but I do not think I have ever been this stubborn. It must be because you are of the Noldor race."

"Race has nothing to do with it, you pompous Vanya." The two lords spun around to find Erestor standing at the threshold of the healing hall. "And for once in his egocentric life, Glorfindel is right." Erestor looked at how exhausted Elrond was. "You need to sleep, Elrond. It is all too obvious that you have drained yourself again through healing your sons. Besides," he continued as he crossed his arms, sparing a moment to send a glare to Glorfindel, "I have some things to discuss with you that may take some time after you wake. And as you have told me countless times in the past, your mind needs to be clear for them." His eyes hardened; his show of stubbornness. "So eat your own words and go to bed."

Elrond rolled his eyes. "Well since my nursemaids order it I suppose I must obey."

Glorfindel smiled as he pushed Elrond towards the door. "That is the first sensible think you have said all morning. Worry not, my lord. If there is the slightest change for the worst in your sons you will be the first to know. Now get out."

Elrond finally gave up and walked with Erestor out of the healing hall.

Elrond ended up sleeping for far more than a few hours and the household staff willingly let him be. The twins slept on soundly, too, no further complications arising other than the fact that they hadn't woken yet. Glorfindel himself checked on them quite a few times but eventually gave up and headed to his office in the barracks, convinced that the teas the twins ingested would last for several more hours. Much to Glorfindel's amusement, Elrond subconsciously always seemed to like dealing with patients when they were sleeping. He couldn't entirely blame him. The twin sons of Elrond were not exactly notorious for being good patients. Quite the opposite, to be sure.

He needed to speak with the twins, but he knew how to be patient. Even speaking to one of them would work. Their minds and resolves were so alike that speaking to one would turn out no different than speaking to two.

It was well into the afternoon when Erestor walked into his study after a brief knock.

"Elladan is awake," he informed. "If you want to speak with the twins now is a good time as any. Elrond is still asleep. If he wakes, I will try to keep him out of the healing wing as long as I can."

Glorfindel nodded his thanks and quickly departed. He had a few ideas on what to say but was troubled on how to exactly initiate the conversation. This was a delicate topic, one that the twins had quickly closed themselves off to in the past. He knew it would be like reeling in a fish; slowly yet firmly.

He halted in the doorway at the sight that greeted him when he arrived in the healing ward. He smirked and shook his head in amusement. Elladan stood at the window overlooking the gardens, unaware he was being observed.

Glorfindel cleared his throat meaningfully. "Are you not supposed to be in bed, child?"

Elladan looked over and gave a slight smile. "Do not even bother, Glorfindel. When have you ever known me to stay in bed?"

Glorfindel shrugged as he shut the double doors behind him. "Credit the attempt." He walked over and sat on one of the empty pallets near the elder twin. "How are you feeling?"

Elladan sat down on the window's ledge and sighed. "A bit better. I am still a little tired but I am presuming that is the tea still at work."

Glorfindel nodded. "And your wounds?"

"They are healing," he said easily. "They are not bleeding at any rate."

Glorfindel glanced over at the occupied bed. "And how is Elrohir?"

Elladan sighed again, furrowing his brow, his worry obvious. "I sense he is doing better. I just wish he would wake, though. Through our bond I know he is stable, but I cannot reach him."

Glorfindel shrugged sympathetically. "A poisoned wound can lead to the unexpected. Worry not, Elladan. He is recovering well."

He shook his head. "The last time I woke, he was better than this. What happened? Did he have a relapse?"

"Not really," he said. "He did have a fever last night, but your father looked after it until it broke. He is stable again."

Elladan cocked his head. "Where is Ada? Usually he would be hovering over us."

Glorfindel looked at him sternly. Now was the time. "He is sleeping," he answered.

"This late in the day?" he asked worriedly.

He pursed his lips. "He spent the entire night with you imparting his own strength into you and your brother. I found him this morning drained; he could barely stand on his feet."

Elladan shook his head. "I wish he would not do that. Yes, he has a healing touch, a wonderful blessing from the Valar, but he is aware of only how much he can use it. And it is not as if our own Elven healing abilities have not taken affect. He should not waste it on simple wounds like these."

The Elda cocked his brow. "You cannot blame him; he worries for you."

Elladan's visage saddened. "I know he does."

"No, Elladan, I doubt you do," he said gently yet firmly. "I highly doubt you realize how much your father worries." Glorfindel held up his hand before Elladan could interrupt. "I saw him on the balcony two evenings ago. If he were human his hair would have skipped pass the grey stage and onto white. His whole body was tense with worry, even though he was trying to hide it. And every day you are gone, every second he does not know where the two of you are, the fear that he will not see you again practically radiates off of him."

Elladan clenched his jaw. "What do you expect us to do?"

Glorfindel sighed, knowing that what he was about to say was useless, having spoken it many times before, but he went ahead anyway. "Elladan, you and your brother know deep in your heart that this Orc rampage you are on will not bring about healing." Elladan murmured a quiet 'Here we go again', but Glorfindel ignored it and pressed on. "No matter how many Orcs you kill or how justifiable it seems, it will never be justified. This desire for revenge is like trying to fill a bucket with a hole in it; it will never be filled. It just does not work."

"What do you expect us to do?" he yelled adamantly as he stood, forgetting his sleeping brother. His eyes flashed with hatred, but Glorfindel was clearly able to see the despair hidden within them. "Do we let them go after what they did? No Orc is its own person. They are all of the same mind and all of them deserve to burn in the pits of Orodruin!" The Elda gestured for him to lower his voice, but Elladan ignored him, anger radiating from him. "How can you sit there and tell us to move past them? We saw how they tortured her! How the raped her and marred her soul past the point where our love was not even enough anymore! What is justifiable in that?" he screamed as tears welled in his eyes. "She did not deserve that! Our father did not deserve that! Imladris did not deserve that! Why should those beasts be allowed to gloat about it in their dens?" Glorfindel rushed to him as Elladan collapsed back on the window seat and held him close. He choked on his tears as he tried to hold them back, refusing to let them fall.

Glorfindel sighed, rubbing his back supportively. "Elladan, if there is one thing I learned from your father in my time spent with him it is this; tears are our silent language of grief. They are not a mark of weakness, but of our strength to confront our sorrow. They are the silent messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love. Do not begrudge letting them go."

After a few minutes Elladan managed to calm down and return to his stubborn side that Glorfindel could only assume he inherited from his father. "She did not deserve that, Glorfindel. And they do not deserve to live."

Glorfindel hesitated, knowing he would have to be careful with his next words. "I will never refute the fact that what they did is beyond repulsive. Nor will I deny that the pain you and your twin feel is understandable and expected." He paused as he gathered his thoughts. "I want your opinion on something, penneth. Why does your father not join you on your journeys?"

Elladan looked extremely uncomfortable at the question. "He is the Lord of Imladris. He has his duties."

Glorfindel shook his head, knowing Elladan was avoiding the obvious answer. "Elladan, your father has experienced grief like no other. And they have not been quick like death on a battlefield. They have been very slow and personal." He looked out the window, his eyes clouded with something Elladan was unfamiliar with. "He lost both his parents due to the sack of Sirion, despite that Eärendil was at sea. Even though it was through the Kinslayings, he never saw them again. Try to imagine the sense of abandonment he felt. Then he had to experience the pain of his bond being severed with Elros when their choice was made and the sorrow that came with the knowledge that he would never see him again, even after this life. He saw his brother's kingdom of Númenor rise and then had to stand by and watch it fall at the hands of Sauron. In the Battle of the Last Alliance he saw his king fall at the hand of Sauron himself, only for it to be in vain. The shame he felt that his own blood had failed, for as you know, Isildur was the descendent of Elros…it was unreasonable to many, but not to him. And then he had to watch his beloved Celebrían sail across the Sea, all because of the Orcs. Do you want me to continue?" He tilted up Elladan's chin, which had lowered at the reminder of the heavy heart his father carried.

"Elrond is no stranger to grief," he continued gently. "And those were only significant events I mentioned. His heart is still heavy with sorrow and memories. Many of his grievances were brought about at the hands of the Orcs. If hunting them down to take your revenge out on them will bring about healing, why does your father not join you?"

Elladan shook his head, his shoulders stiff as he stared at nothing. "I do not pretend to contain an ounce of the wisdom my father has." He looked at Glorfindel stubbornly. "Besides, you are the one who told me that grief cannot be shared and that we all deal with it in our own way."

Glorfindel nodded. "And I do not take that back." His brow narrowed in worry, knowing that his next words could easily be taken the wrong way. "Now do not misunderstand me, penneth. Elves are nothing like the Orcs, save the fact that we were of the same origin. Orcs hate Elves more than any other creature and one of those reasons why is this; Elves represent everything the Orcs will never have. They kill us because, even though they are mindless beasts, part of them remembers what Morgoth took away from them. Please do not take this the wrong way," he pleaded, "but in a way, you and your brother are stooping to the same level of the Orcs; killing your enemy wherever they may be for what was taken from you." Elladan's brow furrowed in anger at the insinuation, but he quickly pressed on. "You are nothing like the Orcs, but this personal loathing for them is dangerous to your soul. Killing them will only make your soul grow in hatred, not in healing. Your father, who has more reason than any other to rip the Orcs limb from limb, realizes that. And that is why he does not join you."

Silence fell as he watched Elladan. He saw the conflict warring in the Peredhel's eyes. Glorfindel knew that Elladan knew this. The logical part of his mind had told him this from day one. But every day proved that emotion won over logic. He could see that part of him was still denying what Glorfindel said was true, that spewing his hate against the spawn of Morgoth brought about the satisfaction of avenging their mother's fate. After a few moments, the anger deflated to be replaced by barely concealed despair.

"I do not want to talk about this, Glorfindel," he whispered.

"We are going to talk about it," Glorfindel said firmly. "Yes, we all deal with our grief in different ways, and I respect that you make your own decisions, but I cannot bear to see Elrond like this again."

Elladan turned to him, hopelessness in his eyes. "What do you expect us to do?"

A sudden thought occurred to the golden-haired Elda. He gave a pointed look at him. "Elladan, how would you describe me?"

Elladan looked at him, confusion written all over his face. "Pardon me?"

"Describe me," he demanded. "How would you describe me to someone who has never met me?"

Elladan looked to the ceiling. "Well, the Elf-maidens would fall head over heels for you."

Glorfindel rolled his eyes. "Besides that," he grumbled.

Elladan chuckled. "Well, you are an incredible weapons master. You are very competent at leading. You are optimistic to the point where it drives Erestor to lose his sanity." Glorfindel gave a sly smile at that. "Yet, you do not make any demands. You are very humble for a warrior of your status and you find pleasure in the simplest things. It is unusual to many. To put it plainly, you are the type of warrior all of us strive to be." He gave a small smile. "But I know you did not ask to get an ego boost. What is your point in having me tell you this?" He was alarmed to see Glorfindel suddenly become so solemn.

"I asked you to tell me this," he said slowly, "because I was not like this in my first life. Not in Gondolin, not in Aman before we crossed over Helcaraxë, not even before Oromë led us on the Great Journey."

Elladan stared at him, not even bothering to conceal his shock. Never did Glorfindel willingly talk about his first life. You could see the pain in his eyes whenever someone inquired about it. Everyone loved to speak of him as the great Balrog-slayer, so proud of him were they and honored to have him, but they didn't dare utter the title in his hearing, lest they earn his displeasure. Glorfindel continued, Elladan hanging on every word he said.

"For all those Ages I was never like I am today," he said quietly. "I was still loyal to my king or lord, whoever it was at the time. I still took my duties seriously and my sense of honor has never abated." He sighed. "But in my first life, whenever I saw a glimpse of light, I never jumped at it. If there was a chance to laugh, I sometimes just walked on by it, believe there were other things of far greater importance. I did not let my thoughts stray to anything that was not part of my purpose in life. I, like everybody else, took advantage of the simplest things, not even giving them a second glance."

He looked at Elladan's wide eyes. "If anyone understands how you and Elrohir feel, Elladan, it is me. I have seen Elves disappear only to be returned as the hideous monsters that Morgoth created them. I have witnessed our people kill each other out of greed. I have seen the betrayal of our kindred." He clenched his jaw and Elladan knew that the Elda was remembering Maeglin's treachery. "I loved Gondolin with all my heart and gave her everything I had. And yet that everything proved to be nothing; I had to stand by and do nothing as the fire-drakes flew over our hidden city and spew fire at anything they could see. We could only watch as the Balrogs came over and through our city destroying everything they walked on. I saw my house crumble into a pile of debris. After the Last Gate was broken down, hoards of Orcs ran through the city…and they were laughing." His breath hitched at this point and Elladan laid a hand on his arm, concerned. "While we made our escape I watched Elves, whether they would be lords, farmers, maidens, or children lay in the streets burning to death….All we could smell was the scent of burning flesh. All we could see was fire and smoke. All we could hear were the screams and cries of our people and the roars of Morgoth's hoards." He closed his eyes. "I have seen great evil and have been killed by it."

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes and looked into Elladan's worried gaze. "I was told that the survivors of Gondolin all eventually sailed to Aman since they could no longer find peace or healing in Middle-earth. If I had not died, I probably would have sailed with them. If not that, I would be doing exactly what you are doing now."

Elladan's eyes shown with understanding and even admiration. Without hesitation, he asked the question he knew Glorfindel was waiting for him to ask.

"What stopped you?"

Glorfindel gave a small smile. "Being reborn brought about a realization to me. After I became accustomed to my new body and before Manwë summoned me, I spent my time in the gardens of Lórien. Simply feeling the Sun's warmth on my skin had made me feel relaxed. Simply looking at the beauty of the world that Yavanna created brought such peace. After I returned to Middle-earth, my eyes were opened to that which many are shut to; the blessings that Ilúvatar gifted his beloved Firstborn. And that is why I find the joy in the simplest of things. Morgoth has warped this World so that we only see him and believe that he is the one we must focus on and defeat in order to stay alive. But no; he simply blinded us through his hatred for us to what really matters. I have learned that the problems today are no longer something we have to live on, but merely something we have to deal with in order to preserve all that Ilúvatar blessed us with.

"What I am trying to say, Elladan," he said as he clasped the Half-elf's hand, "is that you must look at what you still have. My death made me realize all the things I had lost, things I never realized I had. You have lost your naneth and I will never tell you to ignore the grief you feel from that." He shook the hand. "But you still have your father. You still have Elrohir. You still have a place to call home and a purpose in this World. You still have much to live for." He fondly cupped his cheek. "Do not dedicate that living to your hatred for the Orcs. That hatred will never abate, but you will also never heal from it."

Elladan was silent. He looked down into his lap and Glorfindel felt him shiver. He could tell that emotion and logic were still heavily conflicting inside him. But countless decades, centuries, of that emotion didn't drain quickly.

"I understand what you are saying, Glorfindel, I truly do," he said quietly. "But I cannot help what I feel. I cannot help the hatred I feel every time I remember what they did to her." Anger grew in his voice as tears once again welled in his eyes. "It is not my intention to worry or hurt anybody, but I want justice for what was done and this is the only way I know how to do it."

Glorfindel wrapped an arm around him as his breathing hitched and shuddered. "The crimes of Morgoth and his creations run too deep for any possible justice to be served by our hand." He knew that he couldn't change the way Elladan and Elrohir felt nor make them heal. But he knew that he could persuade them to stop somehow. He decided to try one more tactic.

"Elladan, what do you feel about Elrohir joining you on your hunts?"

Elladan looked at him suspiciously. "If you are insinuating that I am dragging him along –"

"No, no, no," he said quickly. "That is not what I am saying. I know that he goes willingly and shares your desire and feelings. You are of one mind there. I am trying to make another point. Do you ever wish that Elrohir would stay behind in Imladris?"

Elladan bowed his head. "Of course I do. Part of me does at least."

"Why?"

He looked at him. "What do mean why?"

"Why does part of you wish that Elrohir would remain behind?" he said calmly.

Elladan was silent for a few moments. "I would never deny him to come with me. I never want to be parted from him. It is for that reason alone I always welcome his company. But part of me wants to beg him to remain in Imladris. He could die or become permanently wounded on any of our hunts." He drew in a shuddering breath. "I know that if he were to die, I would not be able to survive. I would want him to stay in Imladris so I would not have to worry for anyone but myself out there, but I cannot bear to be separated from him, so I never ask him to."

Glorfindel nodded. "And I know that Elrohir feels the same way. But here is what I want you to do, Elladan." He made sure he had the Elrondion's attention. "I want you to think about everything you just said. Are you?" Elladan nodded. "Take everything you just said and know that that is exactly how your father feels, if not more."

Elladan shook his head, as though wanting to deny that he and his brother were causing him such fear.

"Yes, Elladan," he said sternly. "Elrond will never rest easy as long as you continue to do this. His worry for you is something even I cannot imagine that goes on every second of every day. Even when you return home that worry does not abate, for you always return to him injured. He wakes up every morning and goes to sleep every night wondering if he'll ever see his sons again."

Elladan clenched his jaw, silent tears falling down his cheeks. "Please, do not…."

"There is one more thing you should know, Elladan." He pushed on unrelentingly. "Your father blames himself for the pain you feel."

Elladan looked at him incredulously. "What?" he exclaimed.

"He does," he explained calmly. "He could not save Celebrían. He could not save her soul. And it was because of her departure that you went on this rampage. He lays the blame on himself for your sufferings."

"But that is ridiculous!" he yelled, horrified. "It was not his fault. He did the best he could!"

"No, it was not his fault," he said. "Just as it was not your fault that you could not save her in time."

Elladan's whole being fell as tears continued to fall. Glorfindel continued to speak. "Let go of that needless guilt. You will find that you are then on the correct path of healing. Do you remember what I said about your father's grief?" Elladan nodded wordlessly. "He is currently experiencing a grief he has never had before."

Elladan dared a glance at him, his eyes shimmering with tears and his whole body trembling with sorrow and growing shame. Glorfindel looked at him sadly. "He has to stand by and watch his sons succumb to the torment of their hearts and be unable to do anything about it, once again failing to heal those he loves."

The blindness was gone and Elladan's control broke as he doubled over with uncontained sobs. Tears cascaded down his cheeks and then came the despairing whisper. "Ada."

To be continued...

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><p>adaadar - daddy, dad/father  
>nanananeth - mommy, mom/mother  
>Elrondion - son of Elrond<p>

**A/N:** Please review! I'd love to hear any advice or inputs you may have to make this better. And know that Ch. 3 is on its way! And in my reference to Glorfindel being a Vanya…that is neither directly confirmed nor disproved by canon. He has golden hair, and only those with Vanyarin blood are able to have hair of a golden hue. Except for Thranduil – I can't figure out him yet. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own none of Tolkien's characters or works, only the plot and Celadon and Huradel.

**A/N:** (please read) For the last six months I have been having a great deal of trouble and pain in my back due to an issue of malpractice. The medication I'm on at times makes me disoriented and sleep for at least 12 hours, and that doesn't include any naps. So I apologize in advance if any future stories I write get held up by this, including this one.

The purpose of this story is mainly to bring about a realization to the twins of just how caring their father is. Now the question is just what would their decision be if their eyes open to that realization. And also, THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!

*This chapter turned out a lot longer than I expected. There's a lot of self-reflection in here and not as much dialogue as I originally planned. This story has a mind of its own. You can definitely say that this chapter is a vignette. My words ran away again!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

"Stop it."

Elrond found it incredibly hard to resist the urge to grind his teeth. He had been sitting here for over half an hour under Erestor's constant persistence to read over the conclusions of possible ramifications drawn over the decisions made for the next few months. Erestor, bless him, had always had an innate grace with words and an eloquence to put them together. So naturally, it was rather quite easy to make these papers seem deathly important to Elrond's sleep deprived mind.

Elrond had slept for far longer than he was pleased with. Glorfindel had only said for a couple of hours, not five times that amount! Though, to his surprise, he could still feel an underlying exhaustion. But what surprised him more was the fact that Erestor had seemed to be waiting for him outside his chamber. As soon as the lord of the Valley had walked through the door, his Chief Counselor had wasted no time in dragging him to a side room of the Council Chamber.

And now his friend, his beloved friend who he would dearly love to strangle at this moment, was telling him to 'stop it'. The moment he had woken, his mind had been set on nothing other than getting to his sons to check on their progress and he had thought of nothing but. He was constantly driven to distraction with his desire to check on his children. He was surprised that Erestor actually thought him capable of concentrating on paperwork while remaining unknowing on the condition of his sons' improvement. This was the third time he had said 'stop it', forcing his mind to come back to the present and on the cursed papers.

Even though Elrond was currently ill-tempered and beyond annoyed with his trusted advisor, he knew that Erestor was only trying to help by distracting him from worrying over a situation he couldn't control. But as a father, it was his job to worry. It came in the list of requirements. But Erestor wasn't a parent. Certainly, he had a mother-henning nature about him when it came to the twins (albeit more so at a younger age), but it couldn't rival to that of a parent's. As generous and caring as Erestor was being, he and Glorfindel couldn't understand, even if he tried to explain it.

For how could one convey the unexplainable tears in his eyes when one first saw his newborns open their eyes? And smile that toothless smile? How could one explain that warmth that overwhelmed him when one's newborn was placed in his arms? That sense of awe? Or one's shaking hands as his fingers caressed that tiny cheek? Or that wide smile that just wouldn't go away when their tiny hands wrapped around his finger? That irrational desire to keep them all to oneself or crying with joy when one heard that carefree laugh? What of the amused affection of both Elf-children latching onto his legs when he tried to walk? Or the concern and love when they ran to him and hid in his embrace in the middle of the night after a nightmare? What words could describe the pride one felt when their arrow hit the bulls-eye? Or the sadness at realizing one no longer had to stoop to hug them? Or the amusing annoyance of when the tables were turned and they started fussing over his own safety and health? Or the sense of love and interminable pride when they completed their training and proved they were formidable warriors?

And for one so well spoken, how could one convey the worry of wondering if they'll ever come home? How no matter how many hugs and condolences one receives, he'll never be comforted until his arms are filled with twin trouble? How could one tell someone that seeing his own children suffer was worse than any wound inflicted or stab in the heart? For it was more than a stab to the heart; it shattered it. How could one possibly make them understand that feeling of hopelessness when one could no longer help the children who use to run to him, knowing that he would make everything better? What was he supposed to think when their lives were on the line? How could he be expected to pay attention to anything else? How could he possibly look at that despair deep in their eyes and walk away without feeling it himself?

"Stop it."

Elrond threw down his quill and looked across the table to his advisor, only to find his vision blurry. He was shocked to find that his eyes had misted from reflecting over the past few minutes. When had he started crying? He shook his head and pushed the papers away, reining in his emotions and forcing the tears back.

"I know not why you even bother, Erestor," he said as he laid his head on the back of the chair. "I cannot concentrate and you know it."

"I know. That is why I am trying to make you do it."

Elrond raised his head and looked at his counselor in confusion, wondering if his lack of sleep was muddling his hearing as well. He shook his head.

"You have always had my high praise for your logic, Erestor," he said, "but I do not think I have ever heard anything as illogical as that."

Erestor smirked. "Like I actually expect you to get anything done. But you know that brooding over something out of your hands is not good for you."

Elrond glared at him in mild annoyance. "Well, half that worry would have been gone if you had led me to the healing wing instead of this chamber. Elrohir had a fever and what if one of them woke and needed help? Or if they are in pain?"

"First of all," he argued, "there is a healer there at all times, personally trained by you. Secondly, we told you that you would be the first notified if something went amiss. Thirdly, they were sleeping when you went to bed and you know how long the effects of your teas last. As far as that concern, they should still be asleep." It wasn't an exact lie, he reassured himself. He savored a moment to ponder on how he was going to make Glorfindel pay for this. He enjoyed working with Elrond. He really did. But having to deal with an Elf-lord currently in the role of a fretting father worried for his sons was practically irrational. And if one knew Elrond as well as he did, it was downright foolish to even try. Though he would never say it, the fatherly figure Elrond portrayed was something Erestor always admired and respected.

Elrond narrowed his eyes. "Why are you keeping me away from the healing wing?"

Erestor stared right back, face blank as a piece of parchment. "What makes you think I am keeping you away from the healing wing?"

Elrond twisted his jaw, trying to read Erestor's dark eyes, but his friend was a too well experienced diplomat and gave away nothing, curse him. He shook his head, dismissing him.

"If you need me, I will be in the healing wing," he said firmly, but before he could stand, the door opened and in walked Glorfindel.

Glorfindel smiled at him. "Ah, I see someone is trying to escape from his cage."

Elrond turned accusingly to Erestor. "You _are_ trying to keep me away from the healing wing!"

Erestor sighed. "My friend, you pay me a great insult by implying that my mind is in anyway similar to the thought process of Glorfindel's."

Elrond rolled his eyes and turned back to the golden-haired Elda. "Where have you been? And why did not you wake me?"

"I was in the healing wing. And before you ask, both your sons are in stable condition," he said. He didn't quite want Elrond to go there yet when Elladan was so clearly distressed. "Then I went to discuss some things with Huradel and then went to find you. And I did not wake you because you needed the rest. You would have done exactly the same to any one of us." Glorfindel sat down and looked down at the paperwork in front of his lord. "I am going to take a wild guess and say none of that is finished?"

Elrond rolled his eyes again and stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "Remember," he said as he made his way to the door, "I have access to all the food around here. You want to stay healthy, do not dare stand in my way." With that, he left the chamber and swiftly made his way to the healing wing.

Glorfindel turned to Erestor and gave a sly smile. "Have fun?"

Erestor scowled. "Mîbo orch," he muttered under his breath. Glorfindel chuckled and then Erestor became serious, worry showing in his eyes. "How did it go?"

Glorfindel shrugged with a sigh. "All I can say is that I tried."

O = O = O

Elladan was in the healing wing, sitting in the hard wood chair that had been left between the beds. The current healer on duty, Celadon, was in the storage room at his request for privacy. He sat on the side of his other half's sick bed, Elrohir's right hand clasped firmly between his. And he was crying.

Unrelentingly.

He was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions and his body shook with them. He would be a fool to deny that the conversation with Glorfindel had shaken him. Despite Glorfindel's cheerful and optimistic disposition, after their discussion Elladan was unnervingly reminded of just how old Glorfindel really was and how much he has seen and experienced. There was only one Elf he met that was older than Glorfindel and that was Círdan the Shipwright, who was one of the Elves who had awoken at Cuiviénen, one of the Unborn.

The words Glorfindel said hung over him like a dark cloud. They were in front of him like someone who wouldn't get out of his way. They were following him like a shadow. They were like a group of people who kept pestering him, who wouldn't leave him alone. They were everywhere and they wouldn't leave!

His body was shaking from the sobs as he fought for breath. They just wouldn't stop. The words just wouldn't leave. They were as a mantra, just sitting there, echoing in his mind. His eyes were tightly closed, but the tears still fell. Each word stabbed him in the heart, but only because he knew that everything Glorfindel had said was true.

If it were any other person besides Glorfindel that had said them, even Erestor (who somehow knew everything) he wouldn't have believed them. His father was more wise than most, but Glorfindel had gained that sort of knowledge that one can only gain from living for all those millennia. The Elves were called the Eldar race, but there were very few who had been alive before that title had even existed, Lord Círdan being the only other one he knew of. Even Galadriel, born in Valinor, wasn't even graced with the title of Quendi. She and Celeborn were two of the oldest Elves now living in Middle-earth. But otherwise…Elladan briefly wondered if there were any other remaining Quendi in Middle-earth. He knew Glorfindel was the only one of Vanyarin blood; the rest of his kin lived in Valinor. He decided to ask later Glorfindel's thoughts on that and why he was the only one of his kin to cross the Helcaraxë while the rest remained behind.

But Glorfindel knew much. He experienced much. Many a time in their childhood during their lessons with Erestor, the twins would constantly ask for help on their history homework from Glorfindel, since he lived the history. And that was why he quickly believed what Glorfindel had said and believed. He had lived and seen too much for any lie to come out of his mouth. And Elladan had felt so honored that Glorfindel had discussed his rebirth with him; albeit it wasn't much, but he didn't mention it to just anyone. The amount of people he fully informed of the details of his death and rebirth one could count on one hand. And now that he and Elrohir were counted among them was an honor.

Instantly the haunting words came back and Elladan shook his head in despair. Even when he tried to think of something else they always came back, ever haunting, ever following. And it didn't help that he worried for his brother.

His brother…his twin…the other half of his soul. Identical in appearance, identical in thought and manner…to many they seemed to be one person in two bodies. Though Elladan tended to be the fiercer of the two and Elrohir the more passive (and patient), no one could identify who was who unless one knew them well. What he spoke to Glorfindel was true. He truly wished that Elrohir would stay in Imladris. But he was too selfish that he never ask it of him. He suffered being apart from his twin for one day, let alone for months. The separation of being leagues away from him would have been torture. And he knew his brother felt the same way. No matter his desire to, he could never deny or refuse Elrohir's company. To the outside world they grew old, but not to each other. They knew each other as they always were. They knew each other's hearts. They shared private family jests, remembered family feuds and secrets, family grief and joys; they lived outside the touch of time. Having his brother with him was an eternal comfort. It made him gain that sense of knowing, just knowing that everything would be all right. And when he knew instinctively that someone would always be there to share his joy and sorrow, to laugh and cry with him, to watch his back, to forgive him when he didn't deserve it, to offer comfort when he needed it, to give his life for him without a second thought…having that instinctive knowledge gave him the strength to throw down any wall.

He needed Elrohir like he needed air. He couldn't survive without him. How many times had he wished that he, too, had been gifted with the healing touch his father had so he could heal his own twin? It was thanks to the bond he knew how he fared better than most. Nearly everyone, when they saw evidence of the twin bond they shared, looked at it in awe, unable to comprehend having that type of connection with one's sibling. But it was more than a connection; it was a binding, a binding so similar to that of a husband and wife and yet so different. It didn't only just allow them to communicate through the mind; it allowed them to feel and not just the physical pain. It was to feel the other's pain or pleasure, joy or sorrow, fear or excitement, nervousness or impatience, tiredness or blissful or any other state of their fëa. Many a time, he and his brother had wondered if the Valar had taken one fëa and split it into two. It was a binding they couldn't escape nor wanted to. It meant never being alone. Never having to face the greatest trials on one's own. The only other person who could understand the depth of the twin bond was his father.

And at that thought Elladan shivered. He pressed his lips shakily against the fingers he held and pressed his forehead to them. He sniffed and let go a trembling sigh. "Ada," he quietly breathed. As his thoughts centered on his beloved father the tears came even harder.

He loved his father beyond imagine. They, like everyone else, to a certain degree, held a hero worship for Glorfindel. But it was a different kind of awe they held for their ada, the kind that extends far higher than hero worship and went far deeper than any kind of admiration. Their father, in their eyes, could do no wrong. Even at their age, mature in wisdom and knowledge and understanding of the world, they still believed their ada, infinitely wise in all things, could right any wrong. He remembered when they were children, before they had learned of their father's healing touch, that when they were hurt all they had to do was run into his open arms for a great warm hug and everything would suddenly feel better, just from getting hugged by him. He was the model figure in their lives. And he loved him to the point where it hurt to think about it.

His father was an Elf-lord, bound by duty to the people who placed their trust in him. He was looked to for leadership by all races and carried many a burden on his shoulders concerning the fate of Middle-earth. And not only was he a lord, but also a healer, the greatest in Middle-earth. And he and his brother carried an unending pride in those words. But somehow, all the time, he managed to devote that same time to being a husband and loving father. They trusted him indefinitely. They looked to him for stability. Always, in times of trial, he maintained the calm and controlled appearance, only allowing his worries and pain to be revealed to those closest to him. He was the rock of the family. Always loving. Always giving. Never turning away.

The love they held for their father couldn't be described by mere words. It went beyond the standard love any child would hold for their parent in their eyes. For how could one describe the comfort of those warm arms encircling him when one was scared? Or the peace one felt when one was sung to sleep by that soft, warm voice? Or the patience one gained when guided by that gentle wisdom? And the smiles…oh, the smiles. It wasn't that their father rarely smiled; he often did. But in light of the pain he had experienced and the burdens and sorrow he carried, seeing that smile that caused his eyes to brighten and the solemn mask to fall lifted one's soul. But he didn't smile anymore.

But what caused the tears to fall from Elladan's eyes was not the reminder of the love he held for his father, but of the love his father held for them. Now that he thought about it, he could remember that eternal love he saw in his father's eyes whenever he looked at his eldest. And in that grey gaze of love, he could also see a mixture of respect, admiration, and pride. But, to his growing shame, he hadn't seen the change in that look after his naneth's departure those few centuries ago. But now that his eyes were opened, he recalled seeing what it was, and still is; that love was still there, unchanging and deeper than any chasm. But mixed in it now was regret, concern, and a deep abiding pain that could not be interpreted. To Elladan, Elrond was his lord, leader and protector. He was his friend and companion. But above all else, he was his father.

Elladan laid his head down on the bed, the pain in his heart making him want to collapse. How could his father blame himself? And why didn't he see it? If his fëa had a head, he would have shaken it. He knew why he, his brother and sister hadn't seen it. And that sudden realization made him weep all the harder. Throughout their initial grief of the loss of their mother, Elladan had been the rock for his younger brother and sister, holding the two in his arms, even through his own tears. But where Elladan was a rock, Elrond was a mountain as, in his arms, he had held all three. And as ever, he always kept that calm façade, hiding his own tears and pushing aside his own grief since the desire to be strong for his own children was stronger than to give in to the loss of his own wife. For all those painstaking years he had been there without rest or complaint. Always, he had been there with a ready hug for comfort and a shoulder to cry on. In the middle of the night he was willingly pulled from reverie to bear their pain. But that was just it; he bore everything and anything if it offered comfort to his children. He bore their tears, their grief, the sorrow, the anger, the shouting, the silence, and the unanswerable questions. He took care of them, being strong, being the person they could look to for guidance and healing, being the person they could go to day or night for comfort. But in all the time he took care of them, who took care of him?

In technicality, all of Imladris had been there offering their condolences. Glorfindel was there. Erestor was there. But to Elladan's horror, he could only apply his own experience and presume that it was the same for his father; amidst his grief, the only person he could find solace and the smallest amount of peace from was his father. Glorfindel, Erestor, and the rest of Imladris were there to comfort them in that time of sorrow. And he appreciated it. He really did. Nothing he did could ever repay that kindness. But it was only amidst his family he felt a small shimmer of peace. Maybe it was because they knew the grief he was experiencing and could therefore relate. So why should his father have felt any different? But in that aspect, all three had failed him. He was the one offering comfort. And just when Elrond had needed his family the most, they hadn't been there, too wrapped up in their own grief. It was understandable of course, but this was their father. This amazing Elf who simply radiated strength, power, and love was their father! Even amidst the heart-wrenching pain of their mother's departure, how could they have been so selfish and blind to have not seen their father's own grief, not even trying to look for it? He lost his wife and the mother of his children for Valar's sake.

What was even worse was the guilt. When Elladan and Elrohir had found her in that cave, naked and bleeding, whipped and beaten, their fear and anger had immediately taken hold. But later on, after learning that their love couldn't keep her in Middle-earth, so had guilt. The soul-gripping guilt that they hadn't been there in time. That if they had arrived earlier, everything might have been different. As much as the twins tried to hide it, they couldn't do so in front of their insightful father. And what did he do? He proved his love all over again by trying to clear their conscience of that needless blame. Years he spent trying to convince them that they held no fault whatsoever. It didn't work, but they let it be. And what made Elladan disgusted with himself was that he never once, in all these centuries, he never once addressed his father's own needless guilt. And all that time, he knew his ada was feeling it. His father was the most powerful and skilled healer in Middle-earth, both of the body and spirit. And the fact that he had been unable to heal his own wife weighed him down like an anchor. And never was it addressed by his children. Glorfindel would have, along with Erestor. Elladan recalled yelling at Glorfindel earlier about justice, and how were certain things justifiable. But now he had to eat his own words. What was justifiable in Elrond being denied the comfort of his family _by_ his very family? There was none.

A horrible thought occurred to the grief stricken Elf. Did their father think that they blamed him for their naneth's departure? That if it hadn't been for him, everything would have eventually been alright? He dismissed the thought. His ada knew they loved him. They never looked at him with accusation in their eyes. Glorfindel's words began to echo in his mind like a haunting melody. _Your father blames himself for the pain you feel_. How could he believe that? The knowledge that Elrond had carried those self-accusations for centuries made him want to die.

"Elrohir," he sobbed. "What have we done?"

How blind have they been? Yes, they had already known that they caused their father a certain amount of pain from their hunting. They saw it every time they came back home, they only thought that he wasn't trying to hide it, that he was showing it to send an unspoken message. But what if he was trying to hide it? What if the pain was just too great that, no matter how hard he tried, a small amount always showed? Glorfindel's metaphor of the bucket came back to him; it could only hold so much before the contents started spilling out, just like his father could only hold inside so much pain, until it started spilling out as well.

He wanted to remedy that. He truly did with all his heart. To his mind, he saw it like a rejection that, through the actions of him, his brother and sister, Elrond was being rejected by his own children. Within months after Celebrían's departure, Arwen had left for Lothlórien. So soon, when the pain was still fresh in his heart, Elrond lost one of his children. And practically right after that he and Elrohir had gone on their Orc-hated quest. How could they have been so selfish as to deprive Elrond of his only remaining family when he had needed them the most? Sure, they had been in grief, but hadn't Elrond been also? And look what he did; he ignored it and pressed forward to bear that of his children's.

He wanted to speak with his ada, but what could he say? Never had he felt such a great sense of shame. How could he ever look at his father again and not feel this newly found guilt? How could he look into his ada's endless love-filled eyes and be able to speak? Just seeing them in his mind made him want to weep. After everything Elrond had done for them, what had they done for him?

What were they to do now? That conflict was warring inside him once again. The reminiscence of his mother's death stirred that deep abiding anger again, and hatred for the beings that caused it. None of them deserved to live. And if killing Orcs was the only way to right that wrong, then they gladly did it. Besides, it did bring about a sliver of satisfaction every time one of those beasts died from their blade. They had killed so many, so far and wide that word had actually spread among the Orcs of the twin sons of Elrond. They needn't be known; all they had to see were two identical Elves and realize who they were. He remembered the battle centuries earlier that took place before the establishment of Rohan. Out of nowhere they had arrived, charging on horses, clad in grey, unlike all the others, and the Orcs had fled before them. In a way, their names were taboo among the Orcs and both he and Elrohir felt satisfaction in that. The Orcs knew why they hunted and feared them for it. Why should they stop when they were, literally, on a roll? They took their naneth! They defiled her, tortured her, and dragged her past the point of healing! Why shouldn't they declare that wrong and make the Orcs realize it? And then pay for it? What harm was done in ridding the World of those foul, mindless beasts? Why shouldn't they do it?

Once again, Glorfindel's words came back to haunt him like a whisper in his ear. _You still have your father_. Elladan's heart constricted when he finally realized that he was right. The elder twin knew that throughout all of Elrond's life, he had to endure the pain of personal torment. Being a twin himself, he both could and couldn't imagine the pain of the bond being severed. He didn't even want to imagine it. But his father had to experience it. But he didn't fade. He had to live with the knowledge that his brother would grow old and die and he would never see him again, not even after this life, for Men passed beyond the circles of this World. Yet he didn't fade. He witnessed the fall of his beloved brother's kingdom of Númenor and Annatar's rise to power, only to be revealed as Sauron. Yet he didn't fade. He watched his own king, whom he considered to be the father he never had, get killed in front of his eyes by Sauron himself. It had only been by Glorfindel's intervention that he didn't run to him. Yet he didn't fade. He lost his own wife to fading and had to watch her ship pass over the Sea, but he didn't fade. He watched his children grieve and become shells of what they were, practically losing his whole family, and he still didn't fade!

His father was strong. The strength of his willpower was unfathomable. Glorfindel was right; out of all those times he could have faded, out of all those times they could have lost him, he never did. And he was still there.

Elladan knew his resolve. He wanted to release his father from his pain. No longer did he want to see that despair he saw in those warm eyes every time they rode away to kill more Orcs. But he also couldn't deny that desire to kill, to get revenge….All of the sudden, he felt his mind become overwhelmed with wonder as a revelation came to him. Glorfindel's words came back with crystal clarity. It all finally made sense!

Glorfindel had spoken about the blessings of the Valar, how he had overlooked them in his first life. How it wasn't until he had been reborn that he realized what he had been blessed with. Elladan and his siblings had experienced the same thing in a way, only he didn't realize it until Glorfindel had pointed it out. He never realized what a blessing his mother was until he lost her. Would he, too, have to lose his father to realize what a blessing he was? He shuddered at the thought as he tried to imagine life without his father's presence, a presence he had never been without. It would be unbearable. Life would be unlivable. He knew that if that were to happen, he and his brother would sail. His mother was a blessing he lost. But his father was a blessing he still had, something that he should fight to keep, not toss aside.

_Do not dedicate that living to your hatred for the Orcs_.

But it was so simple to. To allow that hatred to overwhelm him meant his mind and fëa going numb from the pain in his heart. It made all his thoughts surround his concentration of killing…just killing. Killing the thoughts…killing the pain…killing the past.

_That hatred will never abate...This desire for revenge is like trying to fill a bucket with a hole in it; it will never be filled_.

Did he even want it to be filled? To go on like this at least meant his mind would be numb from the pain and empty from the memories as long as he killed. Why should he stop if it meant a reprieve, however small it was?

_Your father will never rest easy as long as you continue to do this_.

He knew his father worried, but never to that extent. Elladan gave a defeated sigh into the white linen as he finally let the logic defeat the emotion. He knew, deep down, that he and his brother wanted to heal. Why wouldn't they? He and his twin wanted to procure that acceptance and learn to live again. For so long they had focused on themselves, on their own grief and how to deal with it. But at discovering what their father had hid from them, so as not to distract them from their own course, the light of the world changed…and so did his resolve.

He would do anything for his father. He would go through hell and high water. He would scour Mordor until the ending of the world if but asked. He would give his life without a second thought. Elrohir would do the same. Their father was too dear to them for it to be otherwise. They would do anything to make him happy…anything to bring that carefree smile to light. And if staying home so that their father knew they were safe…well, they would have to consider that.

…_once again failing to heal those he loves_.

He had never looked at it that way before. He never thought to put it that way. But it made sense when he thought of Elrond. He healed Celebrían's body, but failed to heal her fëa. After all the love and comfort and counsel he gave her, he still hadn't been able save her. Likewise, when his own sons became blinded by hatred and bloodlust, after all the love and comfort and counsel he gave them, he would have concluded that he had failed to heal their fëar as well. It was completely irrational to Elladan, as well as all others, but not their father. What failure he must have felt! Not just as a healer, but as a husband and father! How could they have been so heartless to let him carry that anguish?

Elladan sighed as he sat back up, the tears still coming forth as a fresh wave of anguish washed over him. Love was stronger than hate. It was more powerful. He didn't know how to heal from their mother's fate, but perhaps…maybe being amongst love instead of hate would be different…mayhap he would find that way to heal that Glorfindel mentioned if he were wrapped in the love his father offered constantly, as well as the rest of Imladris. They were not beheld by any oath as Fëanor was. But he was afraid…he and his brother were afraid of the pain it would cause…afraid of the anguish they would once again feel…the anguish they had been numb from on their Orc hunts. Another memory of what Glorfindel said came like a slap in the face.

_Tears are our silent language of grief. They're not a mark of weakness, but of our strength to confront our sorrow_.

Did that mean confronting your pain was the start of healing? Or that doing that will only cause more grief? Elladan shook his head, grasping the hand he held tighter. He was so confused. He didn't know what to do! He didn't know what to think. He needed to speak of it with his brother. They shared everything and made decisions together on all things. He needed to discuss it now but he wouldn't wake! Why oh why wouldn't he wake?

He opened his eyes; vision blurred, and looked at his sleeping brother. His eyes were still closed and skin pale. He switched between rubbing and affectionately holding that well-corded hand, wishing that it would give just a little squeeze back. He closed his eyes, exhaustion overcoming him from staying out of bed for so long, and withdrew into their shared bond. He opened himself to his brother and immediately felt a deep throbbing pain in his left thigh and knew this was Elrohir's pain. This was where the Orc blade had stabbed him. But why was it throbbing? Wasn't it healing? He delved deeper, trying to reach through that comatose state to his twin's subconscious, at least to send his reassurance that all was well; that he was well. But he couldn't find him, no matter where he looked. He still couldn't reach him; and it terrified him.

Swiftly, he withdrew from his surreal state and back to the present. He could still feel a lingering pain in his left thigh, a sign of his brother's agony even though he was asleep. Their twin bond was strong and the only other person who could understand it was Elrond himself. Elladan angrily wiped the tears away and forced his eyes to clear in order to study his brother, to find out what was wrong. Immediately, his heart stopped; he saw the cyanosed lips and heard the ragged, shallow breathing. Elrohir couldn't get enough air!

"Celadon!" he shouted as he stood, checking Elrohir's forehead and sure enough, he found a raging fever.

The healer and his assistant appeared within seconds. "What is it, my lord?" He swiftly moved to Elrohir's other side and began his own assessment.

"He is not breathing!" he yelled, despair sweeping over him as it always did with his twin. He pulled at his hair, his frantic mind going in every other direction.

Celadon nodded and turned to his assistant. "Get Lord Elrond; he should be here. This must be a symptom of the poison we did not anticipate."

Elladan was already moving, despite that he should have remained. He ran to the double doors, threw them open and charged out, only to run head long into his father.

Thanks to Elladan's weakened state, they didn't tumble to the ground, but Elrond grabbed at him, shocked.

"Elladan, what is wrong? And why are you out of bed?" he demanded. But he saw the frantic look in Elladan's eye that only appeared from one thing.

Elladan, despite his worry for his twin, couldn't help but feel a heavy wave of shame wash over him, robbing him of his breath, as he looked into those familiar eyes, filled with love and concern and, at this moment, shock. Without a second thought, he threw himself at his father, wrapping his arms tightly about him and squeezing him as hard as his weakened body would let him. He felt his father's arms go around him soothingly, one hand gently caressing his head. And once more, he cried on his father's shoulder; tears of relief, tears of confusion, tears of sorrow, tears of affection, tears of love, tears of unending shame, tears begging for forgiveness.

Elrond, who currently could not interpret his son's actions, so focused was he on the frantic look he saw in his eyes, kissed the top of his head, trying to rein in the urge to rush into the healing wing. "Ion nín, what is it?"

Elladan released his hold and looked at his calm and composed father through blurred vision. He knew that now was not the time. "Ada," he said, trying to control his breathing, "it is Elrohir. He cannot breathe and he has a fever again. I know not what to do!"

Elrond grasped his son's face firmly and made him look at him; that composed, controlled façade once again reassuring and calming his son. Once Elladan's breathing had calmed Elrond led him by the shoulders back into the healing wing.

"You need to lie down," he said sternly, but softly. "You have lost too much blood. As delighted as I am to see you awake, you should be in bed." He helped Elladan back under the light sheets and couldn't help a wave of affection wash over him as he watched his son glance frantically at his brother every other second.

"But Elrohir –"

"He will be fine," he said softly, the eyes radiating reassurance. He swept the hair away from his eldest son's brow. "Worry not, my son," he said with a small smile, nearly in a whisper, "I am here and all will be well. You just rest while I look after your brother. Worrying for him will not help you heal."

Once he saw that Elladan was sufficiently calmed to the point of quiet observation, he joined Celadon by Elrohir's side, his healer's eye quickly assessing everything within a second.

"Send for Glorfindel," he said to the assistant, forcing his healer mode to take over. He then addressed Celadon. "We need to take care of his breathing first. I need an herbal tea with a mint base. Use a portion of asphodel root mixed with athelas and also poppy. And I need crushed mint right now." His voice was firm and Celadon exploded into action.

The mint leaves were in Elrond's hand within a second. Elrohir's breathing was getting worse with every breath and his lips bluer. He crushed the mint between his fingers and applied it to his gum line. While doing so, he could smell the refreshing aroma of athelas and knew the tea was almost finished.

He took a deep, calming breath, forcing himself not to lose himself to nerves and to stop his hands from trying to tremble. He knew he had to look at the wound; he was just afraid of what he would find. As he was unwrapping the bandages, Glorfindel swiftly walked in, concerned with the urgency that the apprentice healer had summoned him with.

"What is wrong?"

"It is Elrohir," he said shortly. "Is there anything else you were told about the attack? This is not the poison I anticipated it would be. It is causing more than just delirium."

"No, mellon nín," he said. "Everything I know you were told. What can I do to help?"

Elrond looked at him and gave a meaningful glance to Elladan. "Sit with him," he mouthed.

Glorfindel nodded in understanding. He turned to Elladan who was staring at his brother with undisguised distress, anxiety clearly written in his eyes.

"Elladan," he said softly. He got no response. "Elladan!"

Elladan's head snapped around only to see blue eyes looking knowingly at him. He felt his body shaking and his heart pounding.

"It will be alright," he reassured the eldest. "Worry not; it will be alright."

He gestured weakly towards his brother. "But what if –"

"Do you doubt your father's skill?" he teased with a light smile. At those words, Elladan immediately calmed down and simmered down to just watching his brother as Elrond slowly fed him the tea. Within a minute, that rough scraping sound eased back to normality as his lips slowly regained their normal color. Seeing that his brother looked more peaceful, he finally gained the courage to look at his father.

Elrond's concentration was solely on the leg as he removed the bandages. Elladan just looked at his face. It looked young and was graced with the ethereal fairness of their kind. But his eyes beheld much age and wisdom. He was looking down at the wound and started speaking, but Elladan couldn't hear him. He was looking into his eyes, boring into them, searching for it, and waiting for it. He knew that the healer's mask was in place, but he kept looking. And all of the sudden, there it was.

Elrond had quickly glanced at Elrohir, his expression changing ever so quickly, but Elladan caught it, even though it was only a flicker. If he wasn't looking he would have missed it; the concern was there, the worry was there, and then there was that look deep in his eyes that he was never before able to interpret. Only now he understood what it was. It was what Glorfindel described it to be, what he and his brother had been blind to for centuries.

Love…love so great and so powerful that it robbed you of your breath and made your heart fill with warmth. Worry…worry so heavy and obvious that it made you feel guilty for causing it. And regret that he could only assume was his ada's needless guilt, and the knowledge of that guilt tore his heart apart. And pain…a pain so intense that it made him just want to hold him, to finally give _him_ comfort.

Elladan felt a tear fall from his eye and Glorfindel's hand on his shoulder. How had he missed it? How, by the Valar, had he missed it?

Glorfindel sat there next to Elladan giving him silent support. He refused to say anything or ask any questions. He saw where Elladan's gaze was directed and could only guess what his train of thought was. Even though he read deep shame in those eyes, he also saw a deep love and appreciation as he looked at his ada in a new light. However painful it was, Glorfindel was glad that the twin's eyes were opened and as soon as Elrohir was awake or until Elladan could reach him, he would be too, for Elladan would be telling him everything, he knew.

He turned back to watch Elrond care for Elrohir. The wound had obtained a worse state of infection and Elrond battled it with every ounce of strength in his body. Glorfindel looked carefully and could see the near invisible signs that Elrond was once again using his own strength to impart healing into his son; the slightly quicker intake of breath, the slight droop to his shoulders and the ever small tremble to his hands. Glorfindel shook his head. Elrond would exhaust himself again before the afternoon was over. But he didn't tell his lord to stop; Elrond would give his life for his children. What was imparting a little of his own strength in comparison?

An hour passed before Elrond could finally take a deep breath of relief. The infection was great and held a lot of drainage. But it was cleaned and the dead tissue removed. With a swiftness born of long practice, he threaded a needle and stitched it. After packing it with athelas he took fresh bandages and wrapped it up.

"Celadon," he said quietly as he finished. "I need you take a blood sample for me and the sample I took from the wound to look at later. There is something in this poison that I missed the first time."

While he did as instructed, Elrond went to the herb table and swiftly prepared a replenishing tea for Elladan. Glorfindel saw him coming and relinquished his seat for his lord. Elrond sat down and fondly smiled at his son, who was still staring at his brother's sleeping face.

He affectionately brushed away the dark hair. "Elladan," he said softly.

Elladan snapped around at the familiar voice and soft touch. As he looked into his father's eyes, he fought to remain in control of the emotions that just wanted to pour out. He swallowed hard and took in a deep shuddering breath. "Aye?"

"I want you to drink this." He held up the small cup of tea. He smiled and tried to smother a laugh as Elladan looked at the cup as though it were offensive.

"I do not want to sleep," he said stubbornly.

"This will not make you sleep," he said softly. "You have lost too much blood and you should not have been out of bed at all. This is a tonic to help replenish your blood. Celadon will be here later on and whenever he gives you water to drink, you had better drink it. You need to keep up your fluids. Do you understand me?"

Elladan grinned at the raised eyebrow. "Yes, Ada," he said. With Elrond's help, he quickly drank the tea (revolted at the taste) and laid back. He sighed as he felt his father's fingers sweep across his brow over and over again.

"Is Elrohir well?" he asked, no more than a whisper.

"He will be fine. He is resting now and his wound is taken care of. The infection set in again, but it should be on the way to healing." He gave a small amused smile. "You know what happens now, right?"

Elladan sighed and rolled his eyes, the continuous running of his father's fingers making it hard to keep his eyes open. "Yes," he said with a small laugh. "You are going to put me to sleep."

Elrond smiled, love shining in his eyes. "That is correct," he whispered, fingers still lightly sweeping across his forehead.

Elladan felt his eyes close, the desire to sleep overcoming him. His body felt like a dead weight and his senses became numb until all he could feel was his steady breathing and those slow, steady digits across his forehead. "I love you, Ada," he breathed as sleep overcame him.

Elrond watched silently as his son fell asleep. He leaned forward and kissed his son's forehead. He stood to check on Elrohir once more.

Glorfindel watched this scene in silence, once again admiring the closeness Elrond shared with his children. He watched as Elrond once again sat down in the hard, wood chair between the two, just sitting, just watching, and his fatherly figure stepping out once more. Glorfindel walked towards him.

"Promise me you will not drain yourself again," he said quietly. "I do not care if you fall asleep here. Just please, do not drain yourself again."

Elrond looked up and gave a tender smile. "I guarantee nothing, Glorfindel," he said as he once again grabbed Elrohir's hand. "But I can promise that I will try."

Glorfindel bit his lip and nodded, knowing nothing else could be said. Quietly, he left the healing wing, once more leaving Elrond to his silent vigil, but promising himself that he would check his friend periodically, and if he found that Elrond was exhausting himself again, he would drag him from the healing wing if that was what it took.

He gave a nod to Celadon, who was once more reading his book to pass the time, and left the healing wing, shutting the doors softly behind him.

To be continued….

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><p>Mîbo orch - go kiss an Orc<p>

Ch. 4 is already in progress! This next chapter will most likely be the conclusion of this story. I apologize if Elladan's vingette was too long for you, but I love these characters. And please review! – Your words are always welcome, no matter what they may be.

**A/N:** That bit about the establishment of Rohan was taken from 'Peoples of Middle-earth', The Making of Appendix A. The actual battle took place in the year 2511 TA.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I own none of Tolkien's works, characters, books, movies, etc. I only own the plot, Celadon, and Huradel.

**A/N:** This is it! The final chapter. I apologize for posting this a lot later than I intended. It took a bit longer to write (since it's a bit more complicated) but it's been too long to get this up. So I apologize ten times over. No one deserves to wait that long. And I hope you enjoy the conclusion!

And if you so please, feel free to go to my profile to read my little note I wrote about my take on Elrond's twin sons. There are just some takes on characters that need to be explained.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

He sat there. He sat there and sat there and sat there. He sat there for so long that he lost track of time. Who knew how many hours had past? Who knew how long he had ended up sitting on that hard wood chair, hearing nothing but the silence of the healing ward and the occasional flick of a book page behind him from the other healer on duty? How long had it been since the Sun started setting? How much longer would he be there before he passed out?

All these questions might have run through an observer's mind, but Elrond didn't care. He sat there between his sons, who were both asleep, as he held Elrohir's hand in his. Constantly, a slow, small, steady stream of his strength poured out of him and into his youngest son's body. It was a rate so slow that he could barely feel it, but he knew he would later. Probably as soon as he stood up. But if it meant that his son was healing, then it was worth it.

He remembered when times were so uncomplicated. Oh, how he wished he could go back to those days. By the Valar, he would give anything to see his sons bring to fruition another one of their ideas, ideas in which something had always gone wrong. He gave a small smile at that; never in his life did he ever believe that he would one day wish for his sons to revert to the mischievous children that, at times, made him want to pull his hair out of his head. But alas, that day was here. Just to see a glimpse of whom his sons were before they became these shadows…to see them laugh hysterically at the good-natured annoyance for themselves from another…preferably from Glorfindel. Yes, he mused. Glorfindel made an excellent target.

He remembered when they were children, running in the hall, only to run faster when Erestor came in sight so they wouldn't get told off for not walking. He gave a fond smile as he remembered one incident concerning the twins and Legolas. It had been one of those rare times when the twins' prank had actually failed, only because he had caught them red handed before they could even start it. It had been one of those late nights when he had been working in the healing wing and he had to go down to the storage room to retrieve more basic supplies, which meant he had to bypass the kitchens. Apparently it had been one of those nights the twins and Legolas had decided to raid the kitchens. And as he had walked down the hallway, he had heard the voices that could only mean trouble and had slowed down, suspicion written all over him.

_He knew the kitchen was occupied. A light could be seen flickering beneath the door, but if that didn't convince him the snickering and over-confident voices of his two children did, just past the cusp of adulthood. He could hear movement inside and, to his surprise, Legolas' voice. But what surprised him more was that the young prince appeared to be trying to dissuade the twins. He leant in closer, not carrying if he looked like a juvenile eavesdropper._

_"Tell me you are jesting," Legolas said, his voice taking that disbelieving tone that practically screamed 'what, do you think I am stupid?' _

_"What are you griping about now?" As hard as it was to differentiate, he knew that was Elladan's voice. _

_"You cannot actually believe that is going to work," Legolas stated with a laugh. Elrond edged around so he could peak through the crack in the door. Legolas sat at the table, looking at the twins as though they were currently the most stupid beings in Middle-earth. _

_"What do you mean it is not going to work?" Elrohir demanded vehemently, almost looking offended. "It worked the last time."_

_"The last time, it was in 'my' home where 'my' people are not use to or prepared to deal with your...amusements." He attempted to say it harshly, but he sparkle in his eyes along with the twitching smile ruined the affect. _

_"But," Elladan said with a smile, "this will be completely different. And if you pull it off right, he will not even suspect you." He paused. "Or us, more importantly."_

_"Glorfindel and Erestor are not the most foolish beings in Middle-earth," he said defensively, though he didn't know why he was protesting so much. "Even if you manage to make it look like the other's fault, the first people they are going to look at are you two. And do not omit the fact that if this goes wrong, your father will be furious."_

_Elrond raised his eyebrow at that and pursed his lips rather intrigued. This idea must be impressive indeed if it could cause him to get furious for what was done do his two closest advisors and friends. Usually it was hard enough just to refrain from laughing. _

_"Oh please," Elladan said dismissively with a laugh. "One of them would already be the scapegoat. If Ada got involved in this, he would just point to one of them. Though it would be hard trying not to laugh at that, too."_

_Elrond raised both his eyebrows at this, speechless. His sons were actually trying to deliberately make him the brunt of one of their plans, even if he were to 'accidentally' become involved? How could they? He gave a sly smile as he now understood what they meant by him becoming furious. He would, and then he would laugh at that, too. Though he be damned if his sons found out about that. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms as he continued to listen, surprised by how dubious his sons and their friend were with his presence. _

_"Do not worry you paranoid princeling," Elrohir said teasingly. "We have been planning this too hard for too long. And your arrival just makes it easier."_

_"Aye," Elladan agreed with a laugh. "But Elrohir's right. Do not worry, you child. Where is your sense of fun? Trust me; you will be laughing along with us wondering what you were so worried about. This will be pulled off perfectly, and when it does you will be kissing the ground we walk on."_

_"Yes, and you will be looking up at it from the other side," he said meaningfully._

_Elladan sighed dramatically and looked to his brother. "Elrohir, when did our young friend become so doubtful with us?"_

_"I know not, muindor," he said in mock despair. "Considering all we have done for him, he should be helping us. Especially after we covered for him after he knocked down that shelving unit of medical supplies –"_

_Legolas stood, pointing an accusing finger at them. "Do not dare blame that on me! I saw you two knock over the shelf only to blame me just because you could, just to end up telling some preposterous story to Lord Elrond to convince him that it was a complete accident."_

_Elrond felt his jaw drop. They did that? It had taken them a week to clean up that mess. And he had believed that 'preposterous' story! Oh, they were in trouble now. _

_Elrohir nodded slowly, speaking as though dealing with an inept child. "Yes, Legolas," he said, enunciating each word, "and we got you out of it."_

_Legolas rolled his eyes. "Do what you want, but leave me out of this. Lord Elrond is too smart to be fooled that much."_

_Elrohir dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Whatever," he said as he turned towards the door. "The night grows late, and maybe you will change your mind in the morning after a good night's sleep."_

_Elrond made sure to have in place a triumphant, knowing, gleaming yet dangerous glare that practically screamed 'you are dead' when the door was finally opened._

He gave a small laugh as he remembered how his son had screamed, literally screamed, at the sight of his ada. And he had to stop an amused smile from breaking through as his youngest son, the one who could always talk himself out of any situation, stuttered mindlessly. Elladan had fared no better, looking like a startled deer, but Legolas hadn't been able to stop laughing. That had been a night to remember. And he had enjoyed telling Glorfindel and Erestor about it the next day, who had then had spent the rest of the week giving dangerous glares to the twins.

Elrond sighed. If only times could be like that once again. He missed the sons who always gave that carefree laugh, smiling without restraint, that simple gesture bringing a smile to anyone in close proximity. The joy and happiness of the twins were infectious. It simply radiated from them. Or use to, he thought dolefully.

Without realize it, he had begun to tenderly rub his thumb along the back of his son's hand as more and more pleasant memories raced through his mind. What he wouldn't do to see his sons like that again. Just to have them be free of pain and sorrow. How often had he vainly prayed to the Valar for them to be free of it? To simply let him have it? He was not unaccustomed to grief. What was a little more to bear? But nothing worked. But at least he was blessed with the joy of holding them one last time before they went off again. Because of that, he knew that the Valar still cared. And he knew that, deep down, it was because of that close comfort that he didn't fade. His sight was then invaded by another memory of when they were precious toddlers, so small and just learning to walk as they attempted to make their way from their mother into his open arms, the finish line, knowing that they would get tickled and doted upon by ada as a reward. His eyes were out of focus as he continued to walk down memory lane. He was so lost in thought that he didn't even realize that Elladan was awake.

And Elladan didn't want him to realize that. He just laid there, not moving a muscle, and watched his ada, seeing him in a way he never had before; vulnerable. And it tore him apart relentlessly to know that he and his brother were the cause of the deep despair found in Elrond's eyes. He knew their ada would deny it, just to prevent them from feeling that guilt, but how many times had that been done in the past? How many tears fell when their backs were turned? He felt tears prick his eyes as he conjured a picture of his ada, standing in the courtyard, silently watching them ride away on another Orc hunt, the fear of wondering if they'll ever come home radiating from him. How could they unknowingly put him through that? If possible, his love for his ada grew even more.

The doors to the healing wing flew open.

Elladan watched a little wide-eyed as Glorfindel stormed into the healing room and swiftly yanked Elrond to his feet before the Elf-lord knew what was happening.

"I told you not to drain yourself and what are you doing? Draining yourself," he grumbled, sounding completely fed up. "You are leaving the healing wing and do not dare come back until I say so!" And before Elrond knew what was happening he was, literally, dragged from the healing wing.

Elladan gave a small laugh as he watched his father's shocked eyes disappear around the door, reality catching up to him. He must really be tired. And sure enough, a few seconds later, he heard them arguing down the hall, their voices becoming more and more distant and Elladan could only assume that the Seneschal was still dragging him along while arguing.

He became solemn once again as he turned to look at his little brother. Watching Elrond care for Elrohir brought about a massive realization to him as he recalled what Glorfindel had told him during their talk. _Take everything you just said and know that that is exactly how your father feels, if not more_. And he did. While he had watched Elrohir undertake another massive treatment for his infection, he had felt terrified…horrified. Watching his brother being unable to breathe had made his heart pound in his chest. Fear that couldn't be put into words just overwhelmed him and a despair like any other had swallowed him whole, if only for a few seconds. He thought about all the emotions that had run through him. So…is it like what Glorfindel had said? Is that how his ada felt? The thought that he did made him sick. He sighed as he believed that he finally understood a sliver of what his father has been feeling.

"El...dan?"

He whipped his head around, joy overwhelming him as he looked into his twin's grey eyes.

"Elrohir, you are awake!" He couldn't stop the wide grin from splitting his face.

Before another word could be uttered, however, Celadon was standing before them both, a cup in both hands.

"It is good to see you awake, Elrohir," he said with a fond smile. "How are you feeling?"

He rolled his eyes, the exhaustion evident. "I am fine."

Celadon rolled his eyes. "The truth would be appreciated. I have heard that line only one too many times from the prince of Mirkwood and other young ones." He held out one of the cups to him. "This is for the pain you are feeling." Elrohir's eyes narrowed stubbornly, his clenched jaw speaking for itself. "It will not make you sleep. It is just to take the pain away and to further your healing. And you," he said, turning to the older smirking twin, "you will drink this water right now. You heard Lord Elrond, so you have no excuse not to." He held out the other cup to him.

Elladan sighed. "Could you give us some privacy for a little while?"

Celadon glared right back. "Only if I am walking away with two empty cups." He emphasized his point by thrusting the cups towards them again. He hid a smile at the identical looks of disgust as they took their assigned drink. Elrohir, because medicine was just naturally disgusting and Elladan, because he knew this was only a hint of the amount of water he would be drinking. Quickly they drained them, Celadon taking them back with a triumphant smirk.

"If you need anything, I will be in the apothecary," he said. He took his book and exited the room.

Elladan turned back to his little brother. "Seriously, Elrohir, how are you feeling?"

"Seriously…" he sighed with a pause. "We need to stop ending up in the healing wing. It is becoming an old habit." He looked at Elladan, brow furrowed. "What exactly happened? The last thing I remember is killing that Orc, turning around to find you, running towards you when I did…and that is it."

Elladan sighed, eyes clouded with memory. "If you remember, you took a wound to your leg. The rate you were going, I am guessing that poison pumped pretty quickly through your system and you passed out shortly afterwards. But worry not," he said as he saw Elrohir's eyes flash in panic, "there were only a few Orcs left and they were taken care of pretty quickly. So then I got you home as quickly as possible."

Elrohir raised an eyebrow, looking unerringly like his father for a moment. "That explains why I am in the healing wing, but it does not in the slightest explain why you are."

Elladan shrugged nonchalantly. "They said I lost too much blood," he said casually.

"He collapsed as soon as you arrived!" came the voice from the adjoining room.

"Go away!" Elladan shouted back. In response, the door to the apothecary slid shut.

"Collapsed, did you?" Elrohir repeated with a smirk. "Tell me, how many wounds do you carry this time?"

"They are only scratches," he reassured impatiently. Elrohir looked at him doubtfully. "Oh spare me, muindor, I have already woken three times now and am well on the way to healing. Do not worry about it. I am fine."

Elrohir rolled his eyes but made no comment.

"How is your leg doing?" he asked.

"How do you think it is doing?" he replied. "It is a little painful at the most, but the tea is already working." He looked and Elladan meaningfully. "Now what is bothering you, muindor? I can sense your distress, even though you try to hide it behind a smile."

Elladan looked down at his lap, taking a deep breath. "We need to talk." Elrohir waited as he took another deep breath. "It is about Ada."

"What about him?" he asked in a low voice. "He did not drain himself again, did he?"

He shrugged. "I am presuming he did. Glorfindel just came in here moments before you woke and literally dragged him from the room, stating that he did. He was so lost in thought that I doubt he realized what happened until he was in the hall."

Elrohir frowned. "Did he not know you were awake?"

Elladan closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I did not want him to know I was," he said quietly.

"Why?" Elrohir was shocked when he saw the tears glisten his brother's eyes as he raised his head.

He gestured helplessly. "As you have probably guessed, he has spent most of his strength healing you and I guess he did pass out at one point. And while he was sleeping, Glorfindel came in to speak with me."

For the next half hour Elladan recounted every detail of the conversation he had with Glorfindel, trying to retain his sense of calm in a lot of places. Recounting was a lot more difficult than he thought it would be. It all served to be a huge reminder of what he was falling apart about. Elrohir remained impassive throughout the telling, not speaking a word. No assumption could be extracted from his blank expression, but his eyes hid nothing. Everything Elladan had felt, every thought he had perceived, every ounce of guilt, every degree of shame, every bit of anguish…it was all mirrored in Elrohir's eyes. And at long last, Elladan finally finished, falling completely silent, having to take a deep breath to regain control over his emotions. It had been difficult retelling it. But to his satisfaction, he had managed to restrain his tears, despite Glorfindel's opinion with them. He watched Elrohir mutely, patiently waiting for him to sort through everything that he had been told. But as the minutes passed, he felt his heart become heavier. Through their bond, he was able to feel Elrohir's whole being sink like a ship, falling deeper and drowning in sentiments and heartbreak that felt so similar to his own. He felt despair well up in him, the type of despair that brings a sharp pain to your chest, making you want to double over, clutching it. But Elladan watched his eyes. They were dilated, staring out into the distance, seeing nothing as steady tears fell from them in a constant stream. His breathing came faster as he clenched his jaw, trying to keep it from shaking.

"How could he believe that?" He whispered it so quietly that Elladan had to strain his ears to hear him. "How in the world could he possibly believe that?"

"Well, if you think about it," Elladan mumbled, "we never gave him much incentive to believe otherwise."

"But how could he?" he whispered incredulously. "How could he?" The question repeated itself in his head like a mantra, the question no one had ever been able to answer. He bowed his head in his hand, not even bothering to wipe away the relentless tears. "Ai, Elladan, what have we done?" His ada…his beloved ada…why?

The elder twin shook his head, eyes becoming heavier with unshed tears. "I know not." He had lost count how many times he had asked himself that very question.

Elrohir's breathing became more ragged. "And we saw it…but he…every time," he mumbled mindlessly. And finally, he broke. "Oh, Valar…Ada." He doubled over, gulping for air as sobs racked his frame. He couldn't hold it back. Elladan leaned over the small space between their beds and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, but still maintaining his silence. He knew he didn't have to say anything.

Elrohir wanted to die. Never had he felt such a shame well up in him. How could they do that to their own father? And why did his ada put up with it? _Because he loves you_ said that relentless second-hand voice that every conscience had. But those words only made him feel worse, even though he knew they were true. It was so simple. Yet how could such simplicity be so complicated? His ada loved them. And he had proven it over and over again. Inside he wanted to scream, to scream out his frustration with life and the unfairness of it, the unfairness of what their nana had to go through and now what their ada had to endure. But more than anything, he wanted to scream out the rage he felt towards himself, for letting it go too far without realizing it, for being so selfish and blind and insensitive to what their own ada needed and felt. Valar, he loved his ada so much that to learn what they had done to him grinded his heart only to tear it apart.

Elladan squeezed his shoulder in understanding before releasing him. "Iston, muindor nín," he said softly. "Ever since…I cannot even look him in the eye now without feeling that guilt."

"That self-hatred," Elrohir grounded out.

"That regret," Elladan finished with a whisper.

Silence fell again and after a few more minutes Elrohir managed to regain some control. "Elladan, what do we do now? I do not want to cause Ada pain. I would rather take it upon myself tenfold." He shook his head. "But every time I remember Nana I cannot help the hatred that fills me."

"I know, Elrohir, I know," he said calmly. "I have had many hours to dwell upon this and I still cannot come to any conclusion. All I knew is that I had to discuss it with you first."

Elrohir sighed despairingly. "What is there to discuss? How could we possibly stop feeling like this?"

Elladan gave a wane little shrug. "Glorfindel said that we needed to find peace."

"But what peace can be found?" He wasn't really arguing. He was just asking the questions that they desperately needed answers to, hoping that merely discussing them would bring about an answer. "As much content as peace may bring, it obviously cannot be the start of healing if Glorfindel turned away from it."

Elladan turned to him. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I am not speaking out against him. He has my admiration and respect as any other." He gave another helpless gesture. "But if he is telling us that we should always look for peace, why did he turn away from it in the first place?"

Elladan fell silent as he considered it; that _was_ a good question.

Elrohir looked up through blurred vision, a sudden thought occurring to him. "Elladan, you said that Glorfindel just now told you all this?" His twin nodded. Elrohir threw up his hands, disbelieving confusion radiating from him. "Then why have we not been told this before?" This time, he did furiously wipe away the tears. "If Ada has been suffering this for this long, why did not anybody bother to say anything?"

"We did."

The twins' heads snapped around to the entrance to find Erestor standing in the doorframe, elegantly poised as ever. His face wore a blank mask, but his eyes shown with the worry and intrigue, and also a hint of appreciation, though for what they didn't know.

"What do you mean you did?" Elladan asked quietly.

Erestor walked between their beds and sat on Elladan's. He gave a small smile to Elrohir. "It is good to see you awake, penneth. We were worried about you for a while there."

Elrohir gave a small smile back. "Well, as can be expected, I am doing better. I am glad to be awake finally though." He cocked his head. "What are you doing here? It is not normal for you to show up in the healing wing out of nowhere."

The twins suppressed their smiles as an irritated frown passed over Erestor's face as he rolled his eyes. He sighed and then spoke with barely concealed patience. "I am here to check on the two of you," he said with forced amiability, also with a forced smile, "and then I am to report back to your father if you are well. He refuses to calm down until told so."

Elladan gave a fond smile. "Where is Ada?"

"He is with Glorfindel," Erestor said, "who in turn is trying to persuade my lord to get ready for bed and get a good night's sleep. There would be no doubt that he would pass out in here again if it were otherwise." He grabbed Elladan's hand and squeezed it lightly. "It is a relief to see the two of you awake. Though I hesitate to tell your father that because then he will just be right back here in a heartbeat."

The twins gave a small chuckle before Elladan fell serious. "What did you mean by 'we did'?"

Erestor looked at him knowingly. "You asked why we did not bother saying anything to the two of you," he said calmly, with an underlying fondness. "But we did, in our own way with our own words." He sighed. "I just think in the light of what you had experienced and were going through you did not have the heart to listen, which we all understood."

Elladan shook his head, disbelief shining in his eyes. "When it is involving us alone, yes, your silence is understandable," he argued. "But not when it is causing our father unnecessary pain. Why did you not tell us we were doing that?"

Erestor sighed, trying to hide his grimace. "Not everyone knew of his pain, Elrondionnath," he said gently. "Those who thought they saw it, in their ignorance, they simply associated it to be the grief he held for the departure of the Lady Celebrían. But for the pain you speak of, that you caused" – there was no hiding it – "only a few of us were aware of it. But those that Elrond knew were aware of it were Glorfindel and me…thanks to their friendship, Thranduil eventually…and your grandparents. At least, that's all I am aware of."

Elladan and Elrohir waited patiently as their old tutor fell silent. They could tell how reluctant he was to speak of this. Why, they did not know. It only just looked like the counselor wished to be discussing anything but this…or at least be in a different room.

"Then why did not you tell us?" Elladan demanded, still unable to hide some of his anger, though it was mostly still directed at himself. "If you cared for him so much then why did any of you not tell us?"

Erestor gave a small shake of his head. "You father told us not to."

The twins were struck speechless. Whatever answer they had been expecting, it had not been that. When the shock faded down, they didn't think they had ever been this dumbfounded.

"Why would he tell you that?" Elrohir asked quietly.

Erestor gave a small shrug. He too looked confused, though right now he looked more resigned than confused, as though he had asked that very question countless times over the centuries but gave up hope of ever gaining the answer.

"I know not," he said simply. "Your father has never told us. We simply learned to respect his request, as difficult as it was to follow."

"Does Daernana know?" Elladan asked. She had the gift of foresight also, as well as the ability to mind-speak. She's powerful, perhaps –

"No Elladan," Erestor said firmly. "As wonderful as Lady Galadriel is, she is no Maia who has the ability to perceive. She would never be so unloving as to invade your father's mind without his consent. Even if she thought it was for his own good, your father knows how to block her and you know he is too powerful for her to even break through that wall. She is in the dark as the rest of us." He gave a small smile. "Though if it helps you, we have wanted to tell you of this for centuries, but your father has always stopped us."

"But why?" he said hopelessly.

Erestor shrugged again. "I know not, Elladan. I gave up ever knowing a long time ago."

He closed his eyes tightly. "But why did Ada not tell us?" he grinded out.

"His family is his life," he said gently. "Your father loves his children more than anything in this world. His reasons are his own, and if you want to know them, then I suggest you ask him." Before any more questions could be asked of him, he stood and straightened his robes. "Now if you will excuse me, my lords, I must go inform your father that you two are well before he comes looking for me. And you two had better stay in bed," he warned as he walked to the door.

"Could you send Glorfindel to us?" Elrohir asked before he left.

Erestor turned around. "Of course."

"And could you distract Ada for a little while?" Elladan continued. "We do not want him to come back here yet."

Erestor narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, looking at them with disbelief. "Do you not seem to realize how difficult it is to distract your father when he is worried about the two of you?"

Despite the swarm of painful emotions he was feeling, Elladan managed to pull the pouting lip. "Please?"

Erestor was amazed how a fully grown Elf could still pull off that pathetic pout of a child. Without a word, only a huff that said 'here we go again', he walked out of the healing wing.

"Do not tell him we are awake!" Elladan called after him with a smile. He knew that the advisor's sharp and perceived cold exterior was just his unique way of showing he cared, even if he did sound annoyed. It was rare that he let true sentiment show as he just did, let alone smile.

The twins sat in separate beds silently, neither wanting to discuss what they all just wanted to go away. They felt like children lost in the forest. A dark forest. A dark forest with no light to follow. They felt they were groping in the dark for answers, answers they didn't even know if they wanted to hear. As ever, as they let their thoughts dwell on it, that conflict was warring inside them, the hatred and anger weighing down their souls. But now, the guilt and shame was weighing even more. And it was so much harder to bear.

They were pulled from their thoughts, or, more correctly, their self-loathing, when the golden-haired Elda walked in. And when he saw both twins sitting up in their beds his face lit up with a wide smile.

"Elrohir! Penneth, I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you awake," he said as he sat down in the hard wood chair. "I was not too encouraged when I saw the state you were in when you arrived."

Elrohir rolled his eyes. "You can stop the exaggeration, Glorfindel. I know for a fact that I have arrived a lot worst in the past."

Glorfindel chuckled. "All the same, it made my heart skip a beat." He glanced between the two. "Erestor told me you wanted to see me."

A not-so-quite-comfortable silence fell as Elladan gathered his thoughts. It wasn't that Elrohir couldn't speak for them, he just naturally deferred to his elder brother as the spokesman of the two.

Elladan bowed his head and took a deep breath. "Glorfindel, we would like to ask you something."

Glorfindel chuckled. "You know you two need never to ask my permission to ask me something. Ask away."

Elladan looked to him uncomfortably, unsure of where to begin. Glorfindel saw the look and returned one in concern. "What is it, penneth?"

Elladan sighed. "It is just…it is a question concerning your past and I know how reluctant you are to speak of it."

Glorfindel gave a soft knowing smile. "Elladan, there is a difference between asking for a reason and asking simply to keep me talking so you can fawn over me."

Elladan and Elrohir gave a small smile as he heard the barely disguised disgust in his voice. Apparently there were still some maidens from afar that were yet enchanted by the reborn hero. Then he became serious. "I know that," he said. He bowed his head. "It is just that I do not want to cause you any discomfort."

Glorfindel smiled and leaned back in the chair. "I am not made of glass, penneth. I have handled far worse discomfort that speaking of my past could bring. And if it will aid you in any way possible, then I will gladly speak of it." He gave a disarming smile. "You just go ahead and ask me."

Elladan sighed, raw emotion making it difficult for him to speak. He looked to Elrohir for encouragement and, of course, received an encouraging, yet sad smile. Glorfindel watched them patiently, seeing the slight mist form in Elladan's eyes. He knew the elder twin was trying so hard to maintain that protective, controlled, emotionless façade. Even though he was failing miserably, Glorfindel made no comment. And when Elladan spoke, he could hear the underlying pain in his voice, as each word was strained.

"I have been thinking about what you have said," he said carefully. "Elrohir and I have both been thinking about what you have said. But there is something we do not understand in all you have told me the other day."

Glorfindel cocked his head when Elladan fell silent. "What is that?"

He swallowed and took several deep breaths, closing his eyes and bringing himself back under control. He wouldn't cry. He just wouldn't. "You implied to us that we somehow had to find peace. And we understand what you mean. And this really has nothing to do with what you were telling me, but talking about it with Elrohir just raised a question for us. Elrohir brought it up actually."

"And what is that?"

Elladan looked at him in pure curiosity. "Why are you telling us to find peace when you turned away from it?" He saw Glorfindel's look of confusion and hurried on. "I mean no disrespect. I am not insinuating that you are a hypocrite or doubting your wisdom. We were just wondering why you turned away from it yourself."

If possible, Glorfindel looked even more confused. "I am afraid I do not understand your question."

"We are talking about when you returned to Middle-earth the first time," Elrohir clarified. He looked down and fiddled with the end of his sheets, emanating curiosity mixed with confusion. "You know what peace is," he said. "You have lived in it. You have breathed it. And it is not like you did not desire it. You did not want to stay in Middle-earth obviously, since you traveled with Ingwë and your kin on the Great Journey. You chose to go to Aman when Ingwë spoke of its promises." He paused, pondering what his next words should be. "When you arrived in Valinor, when the Great Journey was over, were you glad that you decided to leave or did you wish you stayed in Middle-earth?"

Glorfindel gave a small smile of amusement. "In the beginning, all I knew was Cuiviénen. There was no Sun, no Moon, simply the stars of Elentári and the livelihood of the Elves. We knew nothing of the Valar in that time, save that they existed thanks to the periodic presence of Oromë." His eyes became clouded as memories flooded his mind. "When the hosts of Aman attacked Utumno, Melkor's fortress, all we could do was stand by and watch. Believe me, we were all glad to see the Valar capture Melkor, but we were paralyzed at the power that the Valar portrayed. It shifted and transformed the land. And after a while, we heard that Manwë had summoned us to Aman."

Elladan and Elrohir listened contently to the story. It wasn't exactly what they were expecting, but they were glad to hear it from Glorfindel's point of view, anyway. And they both were still slightly overawed that Glorfindel was the only person in Imladris, in any realm for that matter, who still occasionally called Morgoth by his real name. No others ever spoke it (aside from Lord Círdan).

Glorfindel shook his head. "I was _terrified_ at the summons. I believe we all were. And none of us knew what to do. All we had seen of the Valar was their wrath and just exactly _how_ wrathful they could become. Save Oromë, of course; he proved to be wonderful through the years." He gave a small laugh. "I doubt that even one Elf wanted to go to Aman. After seeing what the Valar could do we were all filled with dread. We wanted to reject the summons, but there were many arguments about that. What if the Valar saw that as a rejection of them and decided to come after us like they did Melkor? But if we did go, would we be able to bear living amongst beings like that? Arguments broke out, of course, but there was this constant shroud of fear over us. But you know the story; Oromë came to take representatives of each race to see Aman." He gave a fond smile. "I remember how terrified Ingwë was. If I was not just as terrified it would have been rather amusing." He sighed and shifted his position on the hard chair. "But I will not deny it; I was very intrigued by what Ingwë told us when he came back. Anyone could tell that he, Finwë and Elwë were struck dead with awe." He chuckled. "At first, they were barely able to put what they saw in words. It was rather funny. But what he did tell us what very enticing." He narrowed his brow in thought. "That is probably the reason why I agreed to leave. Despite the fact that all of my kin were leaving, it was really the curiosity that persuaded me. What Ingwë described was very intriguing. And that is actually when Oromë gave us the name, calling us the Eldar." He shook his head, shaking himself from those thoughts.

"But anyway," he continued, "arriving in Aman was an experience I could never put into words." He closed his eyes, seeing it before him again. "It is something that cannot be described. The beauty, the peace, the glory of the Two Trees…." He trailed off, and the twins could see a blissful smile touch the sides of his mouth. "To answer your question, no. I had no regrets in my decision to leave. The Hither Lands have their own beauty, of course. Yavanna created both it and Aman, after all. But besides the fact that Melkor twisted a lot of that beauty, Valinor had something that Middle-earth did not…. It was a promise of being free of worry, free of sorrow, free of pain….When I lived there, all I felt was never ending bliss. It was a sensation and a promise of peace I would trade in for nothing." He paused. "I did not miss my birth land. Eventually, we learned of the Valar's love for the Firstborn, and that only made living in Aman all the better." He looked first at Elrohir then Elladan and smiled. "But that does not answer your question about peace. What has my decision to leave for Aman have to do with it?"

Glorfindel expected a small smile, but none came. Elladan furrowed his brow, knowing they were missing a piece of the puzzle. "Then why did you go back? If you found such peace in Valinor, why did you cross the Helcaraxë back into Middle-earth? You knew Morgoth was in power again and it was far from peace. And it is not like you were entitled to go. It was the Noldor that left and you were not beholden to them. Did you decide to go because they were your distant kin?"

He sighed. "It would not be accurate to call them 'distant', Elladan." He gave a resigned, sad sort of smile. "We were sundered from the Noldor."

The twins' eyes widened in shock. "What?" This was something they had never heard.

Glorfindel nodded. "As you know, the Vanyar are known and seen as the High Elves." He looked quizzically at them. "Do you know why we are called that?"

Elladan shook his head but Elrohir looked thoughtful. Glorfindel bit his lip. "As the Ages passed, we Vanyar fell in love with the land of the Valar and the light of the Two Trees. We needed it like air." Glorfindel bowed his head. "Eventually we left the city of Tirion and moved to dwell upon Taniquetil, the mountain of Manwë. Over the years it became known to all kindreds that the Vanyar were the most loved by the Valar, the favored race, if you so please. And during that time and because of certain deeds done, we became sundered from the Noldor."

They looked more confused and perplexed than ever. "Let me understand this," Elrohir said, his mind spinning. "You go to Valinor and find a peace that you would not trade for anything. You moved into the household of Manwë himself with the knowledge that one, you are the most loved by the Valar, and two, you were sundered from the Noldor." Glorfindel nodded. He shook his head incredulously. "Then why in the world did you go back to Middle-earth?"

"You already said it, Elladan," he said calmly, turning back to the elder twin. "It was because they were my kin."

Elladan looked ready to explode, both from confusion and frustration. Glorfindel hurried on before he could to just that. "You are missing one key element, penneth. When Fingolfin went after Fëanor, he asked for his kin to come with him. And most of them did." He held up a finger. "But you forget that Finwë had two wives. After Míriel gave birth to Fëanor she died, due to the toll the birth took on her body. Finwë grieved, but he did remarry, and he was wed to Indis of the Vanyar." He saw their eyes dawn in understanding and he nodded. "That's right. However far distant it was, I was related to Indis. And she gave birth to both Fingolfin and Finarfin. And since both of them were going, it compelled me to go with them since, in a long, stretched, twisted sort of way, I was literally their kin."

Elladan nodded. "I understand that. But then why did any of the other Vanyar not go then? I actually find it hard to believe that such a distant relation, however real, convinced to you leave the peace you found in Valinor, purely for the doings of another Elven race."

Glorfindel sighed. "Remember what I told you, Elladan. I was different in my first life. Though I loved Aman, I did not carry the type of appreciation for it as I do now. Young as she was, your grandmother did not care either when she left."

Elrohir furrowed his brow. "Why did she leave?"

"You will have to ask her, but she simply told me that she just wanted to rule a realm of her own." He shrugged dismissively. "But for me," he continued, "I was still looking for a purpose in life, for lack of better words. That sense of accomplishment that you did something for the good of Elvenkind. I am not talking about gaining praise," he said quickly. "But to know you did something useful against the war with Morgoth. Who knows," he said with a shrug, "maybe I would have been able to do more by remaining in Aman. Or following a different path than the one I chose. But I will never know."

He looked at them, begging them with his eyes to understand. "What I am trying to say is that life does not have guarantees; it has choices. I _chose_ to leave the peace of Aman with the hope that my presence in Middle-earth will have been of greater worth than my presence in Aman. But each choice has its own risks. For me, going to Beleriand meant leaving behind a life of peace, a life of contentment without heartache. But by remaining in Aman, I would have thrown away the chance to fight against the hoards of Morgoth, defending our people." He looked at them knowingly. "Life is just a series of trying to make up your mind. The difficulty _of_ life _is_ in our choices. It is the decision of not only deciding what consequences you can live with, but also if the benefits will exceed those consequences when gained. So basically, will the pain be worth it in the end?"

The twins were silent and he could hardly blame them. He felt guilty himself when seeing the pain in their eyes grow, despite their attempts to hide it. But he knew they just needed one more push. "I know why you two are running from the path to find peace. As I told you, Elladan, the first step is confronting your sorrow and it is usually the hardest. You know that the pain that has been buried so deeply for so long will be brought to the surface. But guess what? You will not be alone. Your father will be there as he always has been.

"Forgive me if my words sound harsh, but here me. You now know fully what Elrond is feeling, at least to the best of our knowledge. But now you need to decide. None of us can make this decision for you; you love your father. You love dealing out your revenge on the Orcs. The question is simple; which love is greater?" He stood from the chair, knowing the twins weren't capable of speaking to him at the moment. He smiled at them compassionately. "You two think about that." With that said, he quietly exited the room.

The twins didn't even mark his absence. The question needn't even be asked. To continue to hunt the Orcs would mean that they would be numb from the pain and gain the satisfaction of avenging their mother. But it also meant the continuation of their ada's undeserving agony. To stay home with Elrond meant for him to be healed from the anguish they caused him, or at least the start of healing, but it also meant that the pain they had buried would come to the surface. But they knew their decision without having to even think about it. They loved their father too much. Just watching him suffer made them suffer. Only an inconceivably selfish person would carry on ignoring the pain it caused his father. And with their eyes alight with their new knowledge, the sons of Elrond could never be so selfish. They already knew in their hearts that they would endure any torment if it meant the wellbeing of their father. No matter the severity of that pain, every ounce of it would be worth it to see their father smile again.

"To continue our hunts would mean to ignore him," Elrohir mumbled.

"And we both know we could never do that," Elladan responded. "But I cannot help but think of Nana. She deserves to be avenged. If we give up our hunts it will feel like we are abandoning her; that we are just tossing aside what was done to her as if saying 'ah well'."

"Do you think that is the peace Glorfindel was talking about?"

Elladan sighed dejectedly. "I know not."

Elrohir bit his lip, tears rimming his eyes. "Ask Ada."

Elladan looked at him, vision blurry. "What do you mean?"

Elrohir swallowed down a sob. "Somehow he managed to deal with it. None of us were able to. We ran before we even tried. Arwen ran to Lothlórien and we disappeared on our hunts…" He took a shuddering breath, "…just at the time Ada needed us the most." He paused. "I cannot walk, but you can. Go ask him. We know he tried to tell us all those times he tried to convince us to stay, but Erestor said it; we never listened to him." His voice had turned into a whisper.

Elladan nodded, pulling the sheets off of him. "I have a few things to ask him, anyway."

O = O = O

The trip down the hallway seemed to last forever. No servants passed and the walls were covered with the shadows cast by the rapidly setting Sun. In the silence, he could hear his own heart beating against his chest. He couldn't understand why he was so nervous. Or maybe afraid. Or just laden with guilt. He didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore. Except for one thing.

He knew why he was nervous to see his ada, one of the people he always found most comfort in. The truth was laid open. How would he be able to face his ada's unconditional love in that room and not break down? He didn't want to lose his rein on his control. He'd been crying like a child all too much these past few days and he didn't want to fall apart in front of his ada now. He was trying to gather up all the nerve he had, which in truth wasn't much, at the moment. Give him Orcs, give him a battle, or give him any type of situation except confronting his father. He could handle anything with a controlled façade and steady persona, but he could _never_ hide anything from his lord and father. Just one look from those powerful eyes always opened him like a book, every page under a magnifying glass. He defenses were torn down and he fell apart. No truth could be hidden from him. And he both loved and hated that fact.

He turned a corner and entered the family wing. The dark double doors to Elrond's chambers, stylized with Elvish intricacy, seemed to loom very large at the moment, growing larger every second. He took a moment to gather his wits before entering his lord's receiving room.

It was a warm space with a homey comfort that made one want to sit and relax. It was a disarming atmosphere, a place where he and his family had spent many nights just sitting in front of the fire. And across the room was the door to the bed chamber…and leaning against it was Erestor reading a book. He couldn't help but smile.

"Trying to evade my ada?" he teased.

"You would, too, if you were in my position," he shot back. He closed the book with a sigh and looked up. "Why are you out of bed?"

He gestured towards the door. "I need to talk with him."

He nodded and made his way to the exit. "If he asks, I tried most valiantly to return you to the healing wing."

Once Elladan was alone, he took a deep, steadying breath, his heart beating all the faster as his hands took on a slight tremble. He could feel the tears building just beneath the service, waiting just for the smallest opportunity, the smallest reason to burst through. _Come on_, he told himself, _get a hold of yourself. You can do this_. He released another trembling breath and gave a light knock on the door.

"Minno," came the quiet command.

Elladan entered and shut the door inaudibly behind him. Obviously, Glorfindel's attempts to get Elrond to bed hadn't all been in vain, but not all successful either. The bed covers were turned down, but they certainly weren't occupied. Elrond sat on the cushioned windowsill dressed in his night attire. His hair was unbraided and it looked like he had just been brushing it, if the brush lying limply in his hand made any statement. But he obviously held no interest in that. His solemn gaze was directed out the window towards the silhouette of the Valley cast by the setting Sun, the sky a stretched canvas of arrays of magenta and gold with the rich orange along the silver lining of the clouds. The splendor of the Hidden Valley was like a circle; it had no beginning and no end, just the infinite onslaught of beauty, but Elrond saw none of it. Wherever Elrond's thoughts were, they were not in this room.

Elladan saw all this within a second and as he saw his father within that second, he felt his throat constrict. His father bore the grace of Elven youth, but with how the rays of the Sun were cast through the window and the far-away look in the grey eyes, his chiseled features at this moment looked worn down by age and all the weariness that age brought. It didn't help Elladan right now to know that he was the cause of some of that.

_Do not break down, do not break down, do not break down_….

The opening of the door hadn't actually been heard, but after sensing another's presence in the room, Elrond turned to look into his eldest son's eyes.

He broke down.

It felt like his whole being had just deflated of air, any resolve he had to maintain his composure gone after those eyes had pierced him, first with calm and then with shock.

"Elladan," he said with a hint of annoyance as he stood, exasperation shining in his eyes, "by the Valar, why are you out of bed?"

Elladan was unable to speak. He could only just stare as his eyes started to well with those accursed tears again! He wished he could just shove that merciless guilt that always insisted on filling him up when he saw his ada into a box and close the lid until this was over. Maybe then his chest wouldn't constrict and he could find his voice and speak like the ellon that he was instead of freezing like a flabbergasted child.

But even in the dimness of the light, Elrond saw the tears and immediately became concerned. "Elladan, what is it?" he asked as he moved forward, fearing it to be Elrohir.

He couldn't help it. He just couldn't. At the sight of his ada moving towards him and seeing the concern in his eyes, he couldn't stop from launching himself into the open arms. And he squeezed him as tightly as he could. And the tears that had been buried beneath the surface finally burst forth as the emotions of the past few days now became overwhelming. After a few moments, which he was sure his father spent looking at him in alarm, he felt his arms encircle him, bringing him comfort as they did countless times in the past. Despite why he was here, he couldn't help but feel like an child again; he stood there crying on his father's shoulder, holding him like a lifeline, as his father held him firmly in return, smoothing his hair and running his hand up and down his back as he waited for his son to calm down. He hadn't done this in centuries.

"Calm down, ion nín," he said quietly. "Just calm down and tell me what is wrong."

It took several more long moments before Elladan was able to regain enough composure to be able to just speak. He withdrew from the embrace and felt his heart twist in his chest when he looked into his father's now more-than-worried gaze. All plans of what he would say were gone.

"Ada, I am sorry," he choked, practically having to breathe the words to get them out fast enough. "I am so sorry. Please, forgive me...so sorry. Ada…."

He practically repeated the same thing like a mantra until the words couldn't be understood anymore, so choked up and mixed with the sobs they were. The alarm in Elrond's eyes grew as his eldest lapsed into the mindless prattling. His eyes were out of focus, proving that his thoughts were totally withdrawn from the here-and-now. He grasped both sides of his son's face and gently shook him back to the present.

"Elladan," he said firmly. He waited until his eyes snapped back in focus and his breathing had calmed down from his panicked breaths. He gently wiped the tears away, beyond worried now. "Elladan, you need to calm down. Come, ion nín, tell me what is the matter."

Elladan took only the briefest spare moment to inwardly roll his eyes at himself, wondering if he'd even cried that much as a child. But that inquiry vanished from his mind as he clenched his jaw, not out of stubbornness or anger, but out of the attempt to not start up with that incredibly childish show of tears again. He took a deep breath and tried to control the tremble in his voice.

"Ada," he started, but had to pause and try again. "Ada, why did not you tell us?" His thoughts were still a little muddled. "Why did not you tell us?" he pleaded.

Elrond stared at him, confusion now mixing in with the worry. Never had he felt so far from reality. "Did not tell you what?"

Elladan shook his head, having to clench his jaw again. "The pain! The pain we caused you! Why have you not told us we were doing this to you? Why?"

Elrond's face drained of all color as the gleam in his eyes dawned in understanding. Silence fell and it was anything but comfortable. They stood there, neither uttering a word, eyes locked; Elladan's begging for answers, for the truth and Elrond's revealing undisguised shock and dread. Never before had he been as rendered speechless as he was at this moment. He honestly did not know what to say. The silence was deafening. His mind was still spinning from this unannounced surprise when he asked the only thing he could think to say.

"Who told you this?" His voice sounded distant, as though he was only asking to stall, but he truly did want to know. Nothing could be deducted from the past centuries to suddenly conjure this conclusion, however true it was. Someone had to have told him.

But Elladan ignored the question. "Is it true?" he implored in the quietest voice. "Have Elrohir and I been causing you pain all this time?" Every contour of his body was pleading with his father for the truth. Never had his eyes shone so much beseeching and even fear to hear the answer. If he were honest with himself, he knew he was actually afraid to hear the answer. At the moment, every ounce of his being was hoping beyond hope that his father would say 'no', and with some vehemence would be nice. Even though he knew Glorfindel spoke the truth, even though he knew himself that he had seen it with his own eyes, a small part of his heart and mind was praying to the Valar that it wasn't true. And if his father said no, then he would believe him, for his father never lied to them. With an inward sigh, he also knew that he would have to believe him if he said yes.

Elrond lowered his eyes with a rather resigned sigh as he stirred his distraught son by his shoulders. "Come sit down, son."

Elladan grabbed Elrond's forearm before he could take two steps back towards the window. Elrond turned to look at his son's fear filled eyes, begging him silently. "Ada, please," he implored quietly, "I need to hear the truth. Is it true?" No more guessing and no more assumptions, he thought. He needed to hear it from his father's own lips. Not from Glorfindel, not from Erestor or anyone else. Only his father.

Elrond sighed again. The truth was laid bare and there was no hiding it, as much as he wanted to. As much as he had been. "Yes."

Even though he'd expected the answer, nothing could have prepared him for the sensation of his whole being brought to utter collapse, the feeling of being drawn by chains into the world of a nightmare that one never wanted to see. It was no longer an assumption; it was confirmed to be a fact. And if he thought that it would make him feel any better, he was utterly wrong. He hadn't thought that he could feel any worse, but he did. And a small part of his mind considered it strange how all this emotional turmoil could become physical, contracting his chest and making him feel numb from the inside out. He couldn't speak. What could one say to a blatant truth, after all? An excuse, a simple apology, a rationalization? No. Maybe to another, but not to one who was so dear to him. He wasn't speechless; he just thought that no words at this point could ever be adequate.

Elrond watched his son's eyes become glazed in their distress, bordering on downright hopelessness, and he sighed inwardly. Elladan's body was taut as a bowstring and he could only guess what was going through his son's mind. This was not a conversation he had ever wanted to have, but at seeing his son's all-too-obvious misery, he knew he couldn't stand by and watch it endure. Not like every other torment his children had to suffer since their mother's departure. Not again. Not now.

He sighed openly this time and gently forced his son towards the window. "Come and sit down, Elladan. Let us discuss this rationally before you come to conclusions that do not exist."

Elladan looked at his father incredulously as he sat down with him. "Conclusions that do not exist? Like what, Ada? The conclusions are so obvious that nothing else could even be assumed about it!"

Elrond lay a placate hand on his shoulder in a silent gesture to calm down. He knew all too well how quickly his son could go off on a tangent to make a point. "Elladan, you are making a big deal out of nothing."

Elladan looked into the tranquility of Elrond's eyes and felt his sorrow grow; he knew a diversionary tactic when he saw one. His father was once again trying to undermine the importance of himself in order to protect his child. At that, Elladan shook his head, astounded at the sacrifice at which he was willing to go through.

"A big deal out of nothing?" he repeated, his voice lowered to a shocked whisper. "Since when is the condition of my father's fëa nothing?"

Elrond gave a small smile, looking at him fondly. "Everyone is subjected to pain time and again, my son. You can stop the realities of life just as much as you can stop the Sun from setting. At some point, we all have to endure the sorrow that time brings."

Elladan stared at his father, bewilderment still pumping through his body like adrenaline. He took that placate hand off his shoulder and shook his head. "Ada, the pain you are speaking of is what every person experiences. The painful, yet _small_ disappointments that not everything is the way you want it." He squeezed the hand. "Ada, the pain you feeling, the paint that _we caused_ is _not_ small. How could you say that it does not matter?"

Elrond sighed, temporarily wondering where his son obtained his stubbornness from. Glorfindel would say from him, but that was just utterly ridiculous. He was an Elf-lord, old and wise, thank you very much. But he knew his son wouldn't give up until he received the answers he was looking for.

"Elladan," he began hesitantly, battling for the right words, "you and Elrohir are dear to me. There is nothing I would not do for you. You know that. Anybody can see the weight of the burdens you bear. Now what kind of father would I be if I added to that, particularly if it is something I am capable of dealing with myself?"

Elladan just looked at him, disbelief and sadness radiating off him. "Mayhap still a good father?" he hinted quietly. "Ada, you are talking about this as though it is something simple. And yet if it was so simple, you would not have hid it from us."

Elrond just looked at his son, for once unable to refute that truth or turn it in a direction more desirable. He didn't know what to say to that, because it was true, right down to the letter.

Hearing his father's silence, Elladan pressed on, the disgust at him and his siblings obvious in his voice. "Ada, we abandoned you when you needed us. We focused so much on our own grief that we did not give yours a second thought. You lost your wife and we should have been the first there to give you comfort. But no. People like Glorfindel and Erestor were left to do that. You stood by and watched us meddle out our own solutions to our pain; double that with your own grief, not to mention _guilt_, and you say that it is _nothing_?"

Elrond opened his mouth to speak, but Elladan quickly stopped him and continued in a quiet tone of voice layered with a hint of hurt that he was unaware he was voicing. "Ada, do you think so little of Elrohir and me? Did you think we would have ignored it or turned you away? Did you believe us so selfish that we would let you be swallowed in this torment?"

Elrond looked at him now with a determination and fierceness lighting his eyes as he squeezed the hand unbearably tight. "I want you to listen to me, Elladan. You, your brother and your sister are my life. There is _nothing_ you could do that could make me love you less. You could hate me with every inch of your being and it would change nothing. Anger and grief is dealt with differently by each person. You three are far past your majority. Despite what I thought, it was not my right to tell three adults what to do." Elladan sighed and lowered his head, only for Elrond to tilt it back up again. "I could never think so little of you and Elrohir. I know you both love me and I know that neither of you would have sat idly by if you knew what I was going through. You have too big a heart for that."

Elladan sighed again, the hopelessness showing once again in his eyes. "Then why did you not tell us? Why did you not want us to know?"

Elrond cast his eyes down to his lap. That question had been asked of him so many times by Glorfindel and Erestor that he had lost count. He never answered it before, hence his struggle to find the words for an understandable explanation. Yet as he thought about it, he couldn't hide the fear in his eyes that had resurfaced as it did every day since the first time his sons rode away.

"My son, I will not pretend that you did not scare the life out of me the first time you left to hunt the Orcs, not to mention every time after that," he said calmly. "It was a fear I had never experienced before, that much is true. And neither will I deny that it is a fear I could very well do without. Yes, I lost my wife and the partner of my life. But you lost your mother. Despite my grief, I was not blind to what you, your brother and sister were going through. To this day, I would still give anything to take that pain away from you." He paused and gave another small sigh as the intensity of what he was about to say engulfed him. "You and Elrohir went through such a drastic change, such a difference as black is from white. When you overcame your initial grief, I saw the look in your eyes, the anger and hatred. I let you go the first time, believing it to be a short remedy, a temporary desire to see justice done. But when you stretched it to become centuries…when you came home only to leave again the next day…." Elrond took a deep breath as he fought for composure. "Yes, when I realized that it had become your life's focus to kill every Orc you could find, I did try to stop you, even though you did not want to hear it." He shook his head. "But part of me did not want you to. And that is why I gave up trying to keep you home. Despite what I felt, I wanted to let you go on your hunts if it meant that you would keep coming back to me in some shape or another."

"Ada," Elladan said, horror growing inside him of what this could possibly mean, "what are you…?"

"I was afraid that you would fade," he admitted quietly, voice tight with the terror of it. "You could call it a selfish reason for why I never told you how I felt. I knew that if I did tell you, you would probably stop or something similar and only stay because of me. Your life had become so centered on your revenge that I feared it was the only thing that kept you going each day. That if you stayed home and focused on nothing else but your grief, that grief would have eventually consumed you. So if killing Orcs was the only thing that kept you in Middle-earth, as much as I did not like it, then so be it." He looked at Elladan, a light layer of tears misting his eyes. "Call it as you see it, whether a selfish motive or a coward's way out, but I was willing to do anything to keep you two here. It did not matter how I felt, I was not going to allow you two to fade. I already lost my wife, I was not about to lose my sons as well. I would give myself to Námo before I let that happen."

Elladan was crying, steady tears falling down his cheeks. He couldn't help it. Whatever answer he had been expecting, it hadn't been that. His father thought they would fade, and probably still did! Had he carried that fear all these centuries? Not only the fear of receiving a message that both of them were dead or the fear of them returning with wounds too great for him to heal, but the fear that they would eventually fade if they ever stopped?

Almost unconsciously, he leaned into his father's frame and immediately felt himself engulfed in a warm embrace. "We are not going to fade, Ada," he choked out. "I promise. We are not going to fade." He fell silent, but it was a comfortable silence, as the love he held for his father overwhelmed him. "I wish you had told us, Ada. You did not deserve that." He honestly didn't know what to say.

Neither did Elrond. Though he couldn't express the relief that he felt at hearing those words come out of his mouth. He was still beyond worried and scared for his sons, but that paralyzing, soul-gripping fear that had taken hold of him for centuries was now of a lesser degree, if not gone. He kissed the top of his son's head, glad to be able to hold him close.

"Could you ever forgive us, Ada?" he murmured. "We never meant to do this to you, you have to believe that. Please, forgive us."

Elrond squeezed him lightly and gave a small smile, even though Elladan couldn't see it. "There is nothing to forgive, ion nín. It was my choice to live with it. Nothing is your fault."

Elladan shook his head in his shoulder. "Ada, please…."

Elrond gave a small sigh. Guilt could be so easily misplaced and his sons placed it upon their shoulders so easily and quickly. They first placed the blame on themselves for the attack on their mother, irrational as it was. And the Elf-lord knew without a doubt that now his sons were blaming themselves for what he willingly went through. Elbereth's stars, the reason he never told them was so that they wouldn't blame themselves. Though not one part of him blamed them, he knew in his heart that neither Elladan's nor Elrohir's mind would be appeased unless they believed themselves forgiven for that self-placed guilt.

Elrond rubbed his son's back to get his attention. "All right, ion nín," he said reassuringly, "I forgive you. You know you need not even ask." The short moments passed by as Elrond leisurely coaxed Elladan back into a sitting position. "Are you going to be all right?"

Elladan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Yes, Ada. I truly am sorry. You did not deserve to go through all that."

"It is well, Elladan. Let us put it in the past and leave it there." He grabbed Elladan's hand and made move to stand. "Come; let us get you back to the healing wing. You should not even be out of bed and this conversation is not helping you."

"Wait, Ada," he said. "I need to ask you something and I need the truth." He waited until Elrond was sitting once again. "Ada, do you blame yourself for what Elrohir and I have gone through since Nana's departure?"

Elrond raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips, his patience finally spent. "All right, I want to know who told you this, right now. There is no way you could have come to that conclusion out of thin air. Who told you that? Glorfindel? Erestor? Your grandparents?"

Elladan hesitated. He didn't want to get anyone in trouble, even though he was sure that Elrond already suspected who it was. They only did it out of worry and concern for their lord, after all. What could be condemned in that?

He gave a small smile. "Ada, we know you better than you think. And when you think about it, it can be deducted just from observing you." He narrowed his brow in worry. "Ada, we all know that you blame yourself that you could not save Nana. You were able to heal her body but not her fëa. All of Imladris knows how you placed guilt upon yourself for that." He heard Elrond's sigh and quickly rushed on, knowing that this was a topic his father did not want to discuss; it was still too painful. "It was after she left that Elrohir and I began our hunts. And knowing how you saw it as a failure to heal her we can easily see how you would blame yourself for our actions." He looked Elrond in the eye, wishing at the moment that he had that piercing stare that his father had. "Is it true? Do you think yourself at fault for what we do?"

"Elladan –"

"I know you do," he insisted, leaving no room for denial. "Look me in the eye and tell me that it is not true."

Elrond cocked an eyebrow and looked at him challengingly. "Fine. Then you look _me_ in the eye and tell me that _you_ do not feel guilty for not arriving sooner to save your naneth from the attack." Elladan bit his lip and looked away and Elrond gave a small laugh when he saw the stubborn glint in his eyes. "Do not mess with me, ion nín. I have the home field advantage."

Elladan sighed as he looked down at the hand he held in his lap. "It is no fault of yours, Ada. You must believe that," he murmured. But Elrond stayed silent and Elladan knew that his father was adamantly refusing to discuss this. He gave another sigh of defeat. His voice grew quiet and a bit tentative. "Tell us what you told us all those years ago."

Elrond cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

He gave a little, dismissive shrug. "Elrohir and I _do_ want to heal, contrary to what everybody probably believes. We really do." He gnawed at his lip. "We know that you tried to point us in the right direction all those years ago. But we were not listening." This time the shrug was one of complete hopelessness and his voice, small and timid, was echoing with it. "Tell us what to do."

With his other hand Elrond encompassed Elladan's cheek and forced him to make eye contact. "Elladan, grief is never something easy to deal with," he said gently. "You cannot just hear something from me and expect it to go away. It is painful and can and _will_ last for years." He saw Elladan's eyes mist and gave a wan smile, tilting his chin up. "But I will be there for you," he promised, his eyes shining with reassurance. "I will help you get through this, no matter how long it takes. But what you must do is not look at this in the long run." He squeezed the hand and caressed the cheek fondly. "We will take this one day at a time, and I promise both of you that I will be there to help you whenever you need me." He looked pleadingly into his son's eyes. "Do you understand me, Elladan? You will not have to walk alone in this. I will always be there for you."

Elladan gave a quick nod. "I understand, Ada."

Elrond continued to look at him, his grey eyes piercing his son's. "And I want you to promise me something, right here, right now."

Elladan looked at his father suspiciously. "What?"

"That whenever you need something, whether it would be help or guidance or comfort or company or someone to talk to, _anything_, I want you to promise that you will _come_ to me." He waited for an answer but when none came he sighed with affection. "I know that as the eldest you feel that you need to be strong for your brother and sister. And you certainly have been. But there is no shame in admitting that you need help. Grief is meant to be released, not to be kept inside. All of Imladris is willing to help you two. They all worry. Glorfindel is there. Erestor is there. And I will _always_ be there for you. Do you understand me?"

Elladan gave a fond smile and grabbed the hand holding his cheek, now holding both. "Yes, Ada, I understand." He saw Elrond look at him meaningfully and he sighed with a hint of amusement. "And I promise that I will come to you when I need to."

Elrond smiled back. "Good." He pulled Elladan to his feet. "Now let us get you back to the healing wing."

But before they could move anywhere Elladan engulfed him in another hug, but instead of it being one of despair and apology, it was fully laced with all the affection and love the eldest son could put in it. Elrond gave a small smile as he rested his cheek against his son's head and they simply stood there.

"I miss her," Elladan murmured quietly.

Elrond rubbed comforting circles on his back. "So do I, ion nín, so do I. Nothing will bring her back, but you can take comfort in knowing that she is now at peace. She loves you, and it would break her heart if she saw you like this." Even though he knew he would see his wife again in the Blessed Realm, he didn't dare mention to Elladan that she would be waiting on the white shores. His children had yet to make their choice and he would say nothing that would influence their decision, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew his heart would break should any of his children choose the mortal life, but that decision was not his.

Elladan sighed. "I love you, Ada."

He kissed the side of his son's head. "And I you, my son. Come now. Let us get you back to the healing wing. You look as if you are about to collapse." He walked out into the receiving room with his arm around his son's shoulders. "Where did that pesky advisor of mine run off to? He was guarding my door like a hawk."

"Ah," he smiled. "Erestor told me to say that he tried most valiantly to return me to the healing wing if you asked."

"Mm," he grumbled. The stepped out into the shadowed hallway and out of the corner of his eye he spied a golden-haired figure hiding in a nearby darkened area of the corridor. He turned his attention back to Elladan. "You go ahead of me, son. I will be there soon and when I get there I had better see you in bed and drinking plenty of water."

Elladan rolled his eyes with a small laugh and did as he was bidden to. Elrond watched him go and only turned towards the Elda when his son was out of hearing range. He shook his head condemningly, but it was ruined by the smile on his face. "You really do not know how to keep your mouth shut, do you?"

Glorfindel shrugged and stepped out from the shadows. "All due respect, when it is concerning the state of your fëa, your orders really do not count." He leisurely stepped closer. "You had us all worried, Elrond. Though I partly understood why you refused to tell your sons, neither Erestor nor I could watch you go one for one more day like this." He pointed meaningfully at his lord. "And that smile you just gave me? I have not seen you smile like that in a long time."

Elrond smiled again as he nodded in understanding. Though he still felt weighed down, it had been a long time since his spirit had felt so light. He cocked his eyebrow in amusement. "Erestor was involved in this?"

Glorfindel snorted as though the answer was obvious. "Of course he was. Do you think he would willingly drive you out of your mind when you are this worried about your sons?"

Elrond gave a small laugh. "No, he would not. Only someone insane would dare to." He narrowed his eyes. "Why, then, did you not bother to distract me?"

The Elda gave a wry smile. "Because I am not stupid. I prefer to keep my head where it is."

Elrond sighed and blinked tiredly, exhaustion overcoming him once again. "You are a good friend, Glorfindel. Both you and Erestor are."

Glorfindel smiled. "You are important to us, my lord. Never forget that." He then took on an ignorant aura that just radiated smugness. "And in case you are interested, I just thought you may like to know that Elrohir is awake."

Elrond's eyes widened first in shock and then in mock indignation. "Why did not you tell me?"

Before Glorfindel could answer, Elrond was already rushing down the hall with the Elda's laughter ringing in his ears.

When he arrived at the healing wing it was to find the twins silently conversing, Elladan safely in bed with a glass of water that looked to be resolutely ignored. But he let that slide when he saw his youngest son and a bright smile lit his face.

"Elrohir," he said as he walked in. "I am so happy to see you awake!"

Elrohir smiled back, his eyes glazed with fatigue but happy none-the-less. "Yes, Ada, I am awake and before you ask, I am well."

"And once again, I do not believe you," he responded as he sat on the edge of his bed and took his hand in his. "Now you can either tell me how your leg is doing, or I can remove the bandages and find out myself."

Elrohir shrugged. "It is feeling better. But thanks to the medicine Celadon forced down my throat, it only hurts a little. It does not even bother me."

"I am glad to hear that," he said. "Though if you think you will be walking any time soon, you have another thing coming."

Elrohir nodded but then became serious. "Elladan told me everything that you two discussed and…" he took a deep breath, "…in case you have not come to the conclusion already, Elladan and I will be staying home."

Elrond was silent, glancing between them both as a hopeful feeling blossomed in his chest. "What do you mean when you say you will be staying home?"

Elrohir gave a wistful smile. "We will not be going on anymore hunts. Though part of us still wants to, Elladan meant it when he said that we both want to heal. And we know that to start that we have to stop hunting, though we will undoubtedly continue to clash with them in our time with the Rangers."

A shocked silence fell and, after several seconds when he just looked at them, Elrond immediately bowed his head and covered his face with his other hand. That feeling of just ecstatic joy and relief overwhelmed him. He could barely remember feeling so happy and he found that his heart was pounding and he had to force his breathing to remain calm. His sons were staying home. They were finally staying home!

Elladan watched his father, a tad concerned. "Ada, are you all right?"

Elrond looked up, and for the first time in centuries, a bright, genuine smile graced his face. "Of course I am," he said, a light layer of tears lining his eyes. Then he started laughing. "Of course I am. How could I not be? You have just made me the happiest Elf on all of Arda."

At that, the twins both smiled in return and Elrond leaned in to give a big, warm hug to first Elrohir and then Elladan. "Thank you," he whispered. "I cannot tell you how relieved you have made me." He pulled back from Elladan and absently smoothed his hair. "I have not been this happy in a long time."

"We love you, Ada," they both said.

He reached across and grabbed both of their hands. "And I love you, my sons. I know this will not be easy, but we will get through this together. You are not alone and you never will be."

On the other side of the healing chamber's doors leaning against the wall, Glorfindel closed his eyes in pure contentment as a peaceful smile graced his face. For once, in all these past centuries, he felt hope blossom for the Peredhil family. He straightened and walked down the hallway, a light spring to his step as he went to find Erestor. Hopefully, for once, Imladris would seize to worry and he couldn't have been happier to know that Elrond wouldn't have to wait on his balcony ever again.

**The End**

* * *

><p>Daernanadaernaneth - grandma/grandmother  
>Cuiviénen – the Waters of Awakening<br>Elrondionnath - sons of Elrond  
>Aman - Elven name for Valinor<br>Elentári - name given to Varda by the Elves meaning "Lady of the Stars"  
>Minno - Enter<br>Penneth - young one  
>Iston - I know<br>Muindor - brother  
>Ellon - male Elf<br>Ion nín - my son

Again, I know the notion that Glorfindel was born before the Great March of the Elves is highly improbable, again, pushing AU, but for the sake of the message behind the story, I decided to make it so. I hope no one minds.

**A/N:** Finally this story is complete! Please, please, please review! I would love to hear anything you did and/or didn't like. All of your words are encouraging and will better my writing in my future stories. So please review! The next story (call it a sequel) is already in the making!


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